


General Incivility

by harriet_vane



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea and general outline are based very, very loosely on the idea of Pride and Prejudice, but you won't find very much of that story here. It does, however, mean there are two couples, and at least one misunderstanding. This is set at some vague point in the future when Johnny's retired. I apologize in advance for all the skating details that are undoubtedly wrong. The details about Japan are based on when I lived there, so those are probably wrong by now, too.</p><p>"Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" — Pride and Prejudice</p>
            </blockquote>





	General Incivility

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

  
The best part about being retired was that Johnny got to sleep in and then spend the day cleaning if there was nothing else scheduled. The worst part was how often there was nothing else scheduled, but whatever; Johnny was getting used to it. Lots of days he went skating and he had appointments and meetings and appearances. Some days he just... didn't.

The phone interrupted him in the middle of scrubbing the inside of his cabinets, trying to eliminate the stain where Paris had spilled vanilla extract and it had soaked into the wood a little bit. Johnny hit the speaker button and said, "Talk to me, darling," and then stuck his head back in the cabinet.

"Oh. Johnny? It's um. It's Adam?"

Johnny had known that from the ridiculous baby voice and the mild lisp that made him want to steal Adam and play dress-up with him forever. "Hey, honey," Johnny said. "What's up? If you hear weird noises I'm cleaning."

There was a tiny pause. "Well. Okay," Adam said. "So, I heard you're going to be at NHK next week? Is that, um, true?"

Adam didn't need the kind of 'media training' Johnny had been repeatedly sent to, because he looked like the lead singer of a boy band and everything he said sounded like an interview in Tiger Beat. But he needed a little practice getting to the end of his sentences, in Johnny's opinion. "I've been asked to do some commentary and interviews and stuff," Johnny said. His voice echoed a little weirdly in the empty cabinet. "I'll be there for a few days, at least."

"Oh, great," said Adam, sounding relieved. "That's great, that's... Stéphane's not going to be there."

Johnny had spent a lot of time with Adam in Korea, and he was pretty sure if he waited long enough Adam would start making sense. "Sure," he said. It was a good thing he'd switched from bleach to vinegar, because he was breathing a lot of fumes in the confined space. He pushed himself onto his toes so he could really get his shoulder into scrubbing.

"And normally I'd just ask Stéphane, because I think he'd probably know, but he won't be there and I'm freaking out a little bit."

"You can ask me whatever," Johnny said. He stopped scrubbing long enough to put his hand on his hip and frown at his phone. "This isn't about sex, is it? Because I can talk you through the basics, but honestly you should probably ask your parents."

"I'm twenty-one!" Adam protested. "I've totally had sex."

Johnny cycled through the other questions people usually called him about in a panic. "Well, if you're wondering about blow jobs—"

"Johnny! God."

Johnny pushed on relentlessly. "—or anal sex or whatever, I can recommend some websites, but I'm not showing you myself."

He could actually hear Adam blushing over the phone. "No, I— Augh. No!"

"You may be twenty-one, but you look about twelve, angelface, and I'm not going to debauch you. Call me in five or six years. Not that you aren't the prettiest, you know how I feel about your hair, but I just can't do it, I'm sorry."

"Would you please stop being an asshole?" Adam asked, halfway between aggravated and embarrassed. Johnny smirked at the phone a little. "I totally managed to forget that _this_ is why I always call Stéphane, not you."

"You _love_ me," said Johnny confidently, because he hadn't missed Adam's totally adorable crush during Festa.

Adam sighed. "Fine," he said. "Can I just ask you, please?"

"You're the one dithering around," Johnny said.

"Well it's more... I mean. You've um... You've hit on people, right?"

Johnny froze halfway through reaching for the vinegar. "That's a serious question?"

"Don't make fun of me," Adam whined. "Johnny. I need some advice. I don't know how to... I can't figure out... I have this _crush_."

"Please tell me it's not Stéphane," Johnny said. "He's just playing, he kisses everyone, he'll only break your heart." Johnny had figured that out after some seriously embarrassing moments, and he wouldn't put Adam through that on purpose.

"No! God, he's like my _brother._ It's um. It's a girl."

 _Really?_ Johnny wondered, but he knew a lot about people and expectations and assumptions so he managed not to blurt out his long-held suspicions about Adam and Jeremy. "A girl I know?"

"No," said Adam quickly. "You definitely don't know her."

It was really cute, the way Adam though the could lie. "So it's a skater," Johnny mused. "Hmmm. Is it Yu-na?"

"No," said Adam. "It's not her, it's... We're _friends_ and I don't know if she likes me, but I like her, and I can't..." He trailed off.

Adam was friends with all the girls; it was something about looking like he could be on the cover of Lisa Simpson's Non-Threatening Boys Monthly magazine. Of course, Johnny was friends with the girls, too, but that was because they wanted to go shopping and gossip with him. "Give me a hint," Johnny said. He couldn't imagine why Adam thought asking Johnny was a good idea; Johnny had a reputation as the most disasterous dater in the USFSA, after the Drew Thing, and the Stéphane Thing. It was possible Adam had even heard about the Evan Thing, but Evan and Johnny had both worked really hard to make that rumor die, and most people thought it had never really happened. Johnny wasn't telling them differently.

"It's... Oh man, I really like her," Adam said. "Um. It's Mirai?"

Johnny cooed out loud, he couldn't help it. "Awww! That's adorable. Mazel tov, I'm sure you two will have a beautiful life together."

"No! Johnny! We're just friends, and she likes me as a _friend_ and I've never really tried to ask anyone out but she's going to be in Nagoya and I may actually throw up when I see her, because she makes my stomach feel all weird, and I don't think throwing up on her is a very good way to get a date, and I need you to help me. You're totally... You're you, you do this kind of stuff!"

"In my entire life I've asked one girl out on a date, and that was on a bet," Johnny said. "And she said no."

Adam moaned. "That's not what I _mean_."

Johnny posed against the counter, even though Adam couldn't see him. "You mean will I, Johnny Weir, share my life-long expertise at sex appeal and flirtation with you? Will I help you put tab A in slot B at the appropriate moment?"

"Oh my god, oh my _god_ ," Adam mumbled.

"Will I ensure a sparkle-rainbow filled future complete with white dresses, crying parents, and an army of adorable skating multi-ethnic munchkins?" He paused just long enough for Adam to start protesting again, and then said benevolently, "Of course I will."

"I just don't want her to _laugh_ at me."

"Mirai giggles at nearly everything," Johnny said. "Don't let it throw you off your game plan. Do you have a game plan?"

"No," said Adam miserably. "I don't know what to say. I haven't seen her in a couple of months but we text a lot and we skype and aim. But I kind of thought that was a bad way to be like, 'I really like you.'"

Johnny pursed his lips. "You're making me feel old," he said. "Stop it. Listen, I'll see you in Nagoya and I'll make sure you're fabulous and you'll tell Mirai you want to bear her children and everyone will live happily ever after."

Adam laughed. "You promise?"

"No worries at all," said Johnny. He was pretty sure that all Adam would ever have to do to get a date was smile and stutter, and he was equally sure that Mirai would say yes because she was a sweetheart. If it ended up being an awful date, well, the worst that could possibly happen was that they'd blush awkwardly at each other for an hour and then come home and... Johnny wasn't even sure. Adopt kittens to deal with their disappointment or something.

And if it worked out they would blind the world with so much cuteness that the USFSA would probably throw medals at them, just for funsies. "I get to be godfather," Johnny said, wrinkling his nose at his sponge. It was pretty gross, and the stain was still faintly visible. Paris was going to get a really stern talking to next time he came over, except he'd probably have done something else by then and Johnny would be distracted by a ripped bag or mud tracked on the carpet or something. "I get to spoil the kids outrageously, right? How do you feel about sparkly onesies for actual babies?"

"I don't think I want kids yet?" Adam said like a question.

"Of course not, _you're_ still a baby," Johnny said, ignoring Adam's squawk of protest. "Make sure you pack clothes for dates, not just for practicing. I have to go sterilize my sponge, but text me when you get to Nagoya so we can plot."

"You mean plan?" Adam asked.

"Sure, if that makes you feel better," Johnny agreed. "Kisses! Fly safe, honey."

Adam said, "You're the best, thanks," and hung up. Johnny really liked that kid. He deserved a good date with a pretty girl — if girls were what he was into at the moment, Johnny still wasn't convinced, but whatever, it was Adam's life — and Johnny could make that happen. He was a pro at setting up other people, even if all the dates he went on ended in fire and death and misery.

Johnny picked up his phone and dialed Paris. "Come over so I can pack and yell at you about my cabinet," Johnny said.

"You mean play dress up and take pictures and drink champagne," said Paris. "Give me an hour."

"If you say an hour you'll take four," Johnny complained.

"So you have time to get some actual packing done," Paris agreed. "I'll see you in a little while."

\--

"They will probably get married for real," Johnny said from where he was lying on the carpet. At some point he'd been sitting on the couch, but then he'd gotten dizzy and decided to lay down, and then he'd reached for something and ended up on the floor, and now it seemed like a lot of work to get all the way back up to the couch which Paris was mostly bogarting anyway. "I think I had too much wine."

"You're retired, you can have as much wine as you want," Paris said, because he was a dirty enabler and because he liked drinking Johnny's wine.

Johnny waved one arm around vaguely over his head, to indicate that Paris was an idiot and that Johnny had lost track of what he was saying anyway. Oh, right. "They'll have a big church wedding, I bet. And there will be doves, and everyone will cry." He couldn't keep the tiniest hint of envy out of his voice, which was terrible, because Paris was like some kind of angst-sniffing bloodhound.

"You could get married," Paris said. "I'll marry you. You can use me just for my body."

"I can't even live with you," Johnny pointed out.

" _I_ couldn't live with _you_ ," Paris corrected. "But whatever. Maybe instead of helping Adam get Mirai, you should steal him for yourself. He's pretty."

Johnny considered it for just a second. "No," he said finally. "I'm too old and bitter and I'd only make him sad all the time."

Paris leaned over and took the wine out of Johnny's hand. "And thaaaat means no more wine for you," he said. "I swear to god, if you start crying I'm going home. I mean, I'm going to record it on my camera phone and then I'm leaving. For real."

"I'm not going to cry," Johnny said. "I will insist they let me plan the wedding. Ooh, maybe that's what I should do with the rest of my life. Event planning by Johnny Weir!"

"I'll be in charge of flowers," said Paris, pouring himself some more wine. "But wait, why aren't we planning _your_ wedding?"

Johnny glared at Paris, only Paris had moved to the other side of the couch and Johnny was glaring at his shoes. "Shut up. Disaster, misery, dying alone. I know my fate."

"Not this again, with the lonely and the whining. The USFSA only medium-cares what you do anymore," Paris said. "Go sleep with someone that would annoy them and sell the pictures to People Magazine. I'll pay you a million dollars to kiss Frank Carroll on camera."

"I want more wine," Johnny pouted.

"You'll spill it on the carpet and blame me," Paris said, clutching the bottle protectively. "No deal."

"Then don't talk to me about Frank Carroll," Johnny shuddered.

Paris shook his head. "You're starting to sound like a sad, middle-aged woman. I can't be best friends with someone who depresses me."

"I'm ready to settle," Johnny moaned. "Anyone who's willing to actually show up to our date would be fine with me. Maybe he could have a hunchback and a snaggle tooth. I could work with that. I could make it fabulous somehow."

Paris stood up, wobbled a little bit, and waited until he had his balance back. "I'm getting you some water," he said. "You swore you'd never mention the situation with _him_ —"

"Shut up!"

"—so you must be maudlin beyond all repair. I'm sure someone will want to date you. Eventually. I mean, Britney's been married three times, and she's a hotter mess than you could ever hope to be." Paris magically reappeared with a glass of water, which he was definitely going to spill on the carpet, and Johnny was going to cry. Paris was still wearing Johnny's fur shrug, the nice one, and he was going to get it wet. "If worse comes to worst, you can be their creepy match-making uncle. That's not so bad, right?"

"Creepy uncle isn't so bad?" Johnny asked, but he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could drink the water. The room was spinning slowly in circles around him.

"Could be even worse," said Paris, and then he had to stop and think. "Um. You could be Evan Lysacek. Tall and awkward and a total date-ditching douchebag who we hate." He patted Johnny on the head. "I'm going to go sleep in your bed, since you can't sleep in the same room with anyone else and all."

Johnny laid back down and sighed heavily. He was going to get up and move to the guest bedroom. Really. Any minute now.

\--

Flying to Japan was miserable, mostly because the flight was so long and Johnny couldn't justify buying first class tickets. "You sit by the aisle," he ordered Tara. "I'm going to sleep on you."

"You're not getting me all drooly, Johnny, eww!" Tara squealed, but she didn't really mean it. One of Johnny's favorite things about Tara was how she could never resist his charm. His other favorite thing was that she always had a coffee for him when they were going on a really long plane trip.

"I need my sleep. There will be sick children on this plane," Johnny said darkly, "and I'm going to end up sick."

"You are not wearing your creepy mask," Tara said. "You never sleep on planes full of people, anyway. You're not even skating, if you get a little sick it doesn't matter."

For just a second it felt like she'd slapped him across the face, but Tara would never have said anything to hurt him on purpose. Johnny pretended it hadn't happened. "I'm still working," he said.

"As long as you don't get, like, what's that disease where your body parts rot off?" Tara asked. "Fuji TV is paying for your beautiful face. As long as that arrives intact you're fine."

"I'm playing cupid, I can't get sick," Johnny said, but by then Tara had stopped listening to him and was playing with the buttons that made the TV in the back of the seat ahead of her turn on.

"I brought every episode of Sex and the City," she said, "to watch on my laptop. But this has Marley and Me! That puppy is so cuuuute!"

Johnny hated being ignored. "The dog dies," he said meanly, and fluffed his neck pillow while Tara spluttered and smacked his shoulder.

\--

Another nice thing about retirement was that Johnny could have the occasional cigarette in order to deal with stress. The downside was that "occasional" was apparently often enough that by the time they deplaned in Narita Johnny was craving nicotine. He made a note to himself that he really, seriously, needed to stop smoking at all and blessed the Japanese for their utterly backwards ways, because they still had a smoking lounge in the airport where he could light up just long enough to remind himself that smoking was a disgusting habit.

"Fans at ten o'clock," said Tara, pointing.

Johnny fixed his scarf and cursed under his breath. His fans were the greatest people on earth and he loved each and every single one of them, but sometimes it was a pain in the ass, smiling after a thirteen hour flight. He plastered on a smile and bowed as they bowed to him, surrounding him with pens and notebooks with adorable cartoons on them. There was a group of teenage girls holding hands and wearing sailor suits, whispering to each other and then shrieking with giggles. None of them were quite brave enough to talk to him until three of them got together and pushed the fourth forward, sparkly gel-pen and panda-covered paper in hand.

"Please, we..." she started, and then stopped, looking back at her friends, who giggled encouragingly. "You are... favorite," she tried again.

"And you're _my_ favorite," Johnny said, with a devastating wink that made them all burst into gales of stifled giggles. He signed the paper with a big sparkly heart and the rest of them rushed forward, holding out other things, stuffed animals and notebooks and a book full of his pictures that one of them had painstakingly made. This was why he loved them so much.

There was a sudden shriek from one of the girls and they began talking in furious Japanese, looking over his shoulder. Tara turned and made a face, elbowing him.

"Evan," she said.

"What? Fuck," said Johnny. A benefit of retirement was supposed to be his total ability to avoid Evan Lysacek. "Maybe he won't come over here—"

The girls started shrieking and some of them bowed politely to Johnny before the crowd rushed off to surround Evan. Johnny scowled at them for just a second, before he shrugged and decided to move on with his life. No one had given Evan a book of pictures, at least. Johnny was still their favorite.

"Stop planning his death with your brain," Tara hissed. "I can totally see it all over your face."

"It involves a toaster, a bathtub, and a crocodile," said Johnny, narrowing his eyes and taking just a moment to enjoy the mental image, and then he grabbed his rolling suitcase and said, "Shall we get a taxi? I'm beat."

One of the Japanese girls looked anxiously at him and said, "Please, you... Together?"

"Me and Tara?" Johnny said hopefully, but they were ushering Evan over, and oh, Christ, the last thing Johnny wanted when he was feeling crabby and grimy from the flight and craving a cigarette was Evan Lysacek all up in his space. Evan was wearing his Team USA jacket and a big grin and his skin was the color of a pumpkin. He looked tireder than Johnny did, and Johnny was glad.

"Hey," said Evan.

Even the way he greeted people set Johnny's teeth on edge; what was wrong with complete words? "Hello," Johnny replied pointedly, but Evan just grinned.

"You mind?"

"No, not at all," Johnny lied through his teeth. The fans were shrieking and giggling and surrounding them again; this was not the time to throw a bitch fit about Evan. Later, when they got to the hotel, Johnny was going to video chat with his mom and complain to his heart's content, but right now he tried his best to smile, even when Evan put his great big monkey arm around Johnny's shoulder and leaned in a little too close.

The smell of Evan hit Johnny like a ton of bricks. Not in a bad way; Evan smelled like Old Spice, or Axe, or whatever shitty men's deodorant he'd always worn. It was just that Johnny had forgotten he knew what Evan smelled like.

"Cheezu!" sang one of the fans, and everyone's cellphone's clicked at the same time, surrounding them with flashes like the paparazzi. Johnny did his level best to give the camera happy, friendly, and ever-so-slightly uncomfortable because he didn't want the internet speculating about how he felt with Evan's arm on his shoulder.

"What are you here for?" Evan asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, but to Johnny it sounded like an attack. _You retired, why are_ you _here?_

"Working," said Johnny shortly, trying to shrug out of Evan's half-hug, but Evan was still grinning for fans and he wasn't inclined to let go.

"Cool," said Evan, and Johnny wasn't making up the slight disdain in Evan's voice. "That'll be uh. Interesting for you. I guess."

Johnny smiled sweetly and said, "At least I retired before I embarrassed myself."

"Bronze is not an embarrassment—" Evan started, but Johnny had managed to free himself from Evan's hand and grab his suitcase again.

"See you in Nagoya," said Johnny. He blew a kiss to the teenage girls in their adorable school uniforms, and they shrieked. He grabbed his suitcase and rolled out of there as quickly as he could without looking like he was being rude to the fans.

Tara puffed a little bit, keeping up with him. "You two are still behaving like adults, I see," she said.

"Get me a taxi and a cigarette before I punch someone in the face," Johnny replied shortly.

Tara rolled her eyes at him, but refrained from comment.

\--

Johnny was in a better mood by the time he got to the hotel. The train and the bus were miserable, but travel in Japan was so relaxing. Everything ran on time and everyone was so polite, and he could always count on his reservations to work out exactly the way he'd planned them, unlike Russia where it was always a game of craps if the hotel would even exist at all. Johnny's hotel room was spotless and it smelled wonderful, and as soon as he stepped into it all the tension that he'd been carrying in his shoulders since he ran into Evan vanished.

The jet lag that had been dogging Johnny since he landed caught up to him, all in a rush, and all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed face-first and sleep for a few hours, but it was only mid-afternoon Nagoya time, and he knew that if he let himself sleep now he'd be off-time and miserable the rest of the week. Instead he started organizing the drawers in his hotel room, neatly arranging his sweaters by color and weight so that he'd know what to wear to the rink and what to wear outside.

Someone pounded frantically on his hotel door. "Yes?" Johnny said uncertainly. If it was room service the odds were he'd never figure out what they were saying. He'd taught himself a smidge of Japanese, but somehow it never helped when he needed to actually understand something. He cracked the door open.

"Oh, thank god," said Adam, throwing his arms around Johnny's neck in a mildly-desperate hug. "What if you hadn't gotten here until tomorrow when we start practicing, and I see Mirai and I don't know what to say?"

"Are you staying in this hotel, too?" Johnny asked, trying to escape Adam's adorable, but slightly too tight, hug. Johnny had some personal space issues. He didn't mind hugging people, but he didn't always love being hugged without some warning.

"All the skaters are, I think," said Adam. He looked tired and panicked. "Including Mirai. I skipped lunch, just in case."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "She's a teenage girl, not a grizzly bear. I mean, I can see where you'd get confused."

"I just," said Adam, "I really like her." His cheeks were turning pink just talking about it. It was somewhere between the cutest thing Johnny had ever seen and the most sickening.

"You're friends," Johnny pointed out, dredging up patience he didn't really have after an international flight. "Don't you talk to her normally? Just talk to her."

"But she'll _know_ ," Adam said, hushed like he was afraid Mirai was listening at the door with a glass to her ear.

Johnny heroically stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "I think she's probably more worried about skating this week. You being weird isn't going to register."

"That's what I hoped, too," Adam said, and then his face kind of crumpled a little bit, and damn it, Johnny wasn't made of stone. Sad Adam was like an abandoned kitten in a puddle during a rainstorm. "But when I skyped her yesterday she asked me _if I was okay._ "

Johnny needed to fold something. He picked up the sweaters he'd just put in the drawer and rearranged them, lining the sleeves up carefully. "And that's bad," he said.

"She doesn't normally ask that! I must be acting weird!"

"You are," Johnny assured him.

Adam threw a pillow at Johnny. "You don't understand anything," he said. "You've never been in love, you think I'm being stupid."

"Oh god, are you actually in _love_?" Johnny sighed. "I was hoping this was more something along the lines of an adorable crush."

Adam shook his head. "See? You're not taking me seriously."

Johnny sat down on the bed and tried to look as serious as possible. "I promise I am. How do you know you're in love with Mirai?"

"She just... Everything she says is like... And her eyes are like... And I just..." Adam waved his hands helplessly. "I just want to be around her all the time. I want her to be happy. I want to make her happy. I want her to... I just... If she smiled at me I think I'd—"

"Okay," Johnny said, putting up a hand to stop him. "The first blush of true love. Got it."

"I am not blushing," Adam objected, blushing.

Johnny patted his knee. "That's okay," he said. "Do you see how I'm not giving you a hard time about calling me a loveless, boyfriendless, bitter queen? I won't tease you about the blushing, either."

Adam's face was absolutely hilarious. "I didn't mean — Oh, Johnny, I just meant that you... I'm sorry!"

"I didn't say you were wrong, either," said Johnny. "It's okay. I prefer to think of myself as too awesome to be dated. No one can handle how amazing I am."

"Definitely," Adam said loyally. He paused. "Um. _Have_ you ever been in love?"

Johnny hesitated just a second over how to answer that. "I think I thought I was a couple of times, but then they both turned out to be total bastards, so no. I guess not."

"Oh, Johnny," said Adam again, sadly.

"Don't you dare," Johnny said. "Or I'll call Mirai right now and tell her—"

"No! _No!_ " Adam squeaked. "I'm sorry. Oh, I mean I'm _not_ sorry. I mean—"

Johnny nodded, satisfied. "Let's talk about what you're going to wear, instead. You need to make a good impression. And, if possible, not look like a pre-teen idol. Let's see if we can't sex you up."

\--

Johnny had two meetings in person with the Japanese network that wanted him to do the broadcast and the interviews, and then he had a phone conference with the book people, and then he had to reply to some emails from Sundance, and by the time he was done he was so tired that even if it hadn't been after dark in Nagoya he probably would have passed out. He crawled into bed and slept like a rock all night, until Tara woke him up with her super-obnoxious early-morning cheerful voice.

"Wakey wakey, princess!" Tara trilled.

"I hate you," Johnny mumbled into his pillow.

"You need to go down to the rink so we can start shooting the promos and commercials," Tara said.

She sounded much too happy for 6:30 in the morning. "You're still on east coast time," Johnny accused. "Go away, leave me alone."

"If I have to come up to your room there will be dire consequences," Tara said, still sounding entirely pleased with herself. "You think I can't be mean, but I totally can."

"Bah," said Johnny, but he dragged himself out of bed. He took a long shower and then spent a while making sure he looked his absolute best, because he was going to run into other skaters at the rink, and he needed the armor of perfect skin and carefully coiffed hair. Tara texted him three times asking if he was ready to go, but when he got down to the lobby she wasn't ready yet and he ended up standing around waiting for her instead.

A few of the skaters were scheduled to go out and skate early in the morning, and every single one had the same reaction to Johnny as they passed; a look of astonishment, fading quickly into polite, confused friendliness. "I thought you retired...?" and then a polite nod when Johnny explained that he was there for book promotion and commentating and other stuff. It wasn't as if skaters didn't stick around after retirement, it was just that they were all apparently astonished that _he_ had, and it really chafed, especially the fifth time he explained it.

Whatever, it didn't matter. Johnny smiled and joked around about how great retirement was and waited until Tara finally, _finally_ got out of the elevator before he exploded. "I hate this and I don't want to be here! Can we fly home right now, please?"

Tara just handed him a cup of coffee and pulled him, protesting, out to where their cab was waiting.

Johnny pouted the entire way there, but by the time they arrived he'd finished his coffee and reorganized Tara's purse, and he felt a lot better. Better enough to smile at the other skaters without betraying the horrible stab of jealousy that went through his chest when he walked into the rink. He reminded himself firmly that he'd chosen this, that it was a good, smart decision that meant he wasn't going to embarrass himself on the ice this year competing against kids who could kick his elderly ass, that his sore hip and healing bones thanked him every morning for not torturing them further. He pushed his chin up and took Tara's arm and didn't betray a damn thing with his expression.

"Let me go see if Fuji TV is here yet," said Tara. "We're having some translation issues, it's a little confusing. You wait here, don't run away," Tara said sternly. Or as sternly as Tara ever managed.

Johnny was left to fend for himself, standing by the boards and watching other skaters. He managed about thirty seconds of it before it started feeling overwhelming, and he turned on his heel, giant bag over his arm, determined to find somewhere else to wait that wouldn't be painful.

He ran smack into someone's chest. The guy went, "Ooof," and Johnny almost fell over. Before he caught his balance and looked up he realized it was Evan, because there was that horribly familiar smell again.

"Sorry, you okay — oh," said Evan, catching Johnny's elbow to steady him and then dropping it again like he was radioactive.

"I'm fine," Johnny said. "Watch where you're going."

"Pretty sure you ran into me," Evan pointed out.

Johnny had no answer for that, so he huffed and crossed his arms. "Nice turtleneck." Evan was wearing a black shirt with rhinestones around the collar and down the sleeves. It was almost so tacky it came back around to fabulous again, but not quite, because Evan wore it so awkwardly.

"Thanks," said Evan, apparently missing Johnny's scathing tone, which made him even madder. "Nice uh. Gloves?"

"Go practice and leave me alone," said Johnny shortly. His gloves were fabulous, and he loved the fur around the cuffs.

"It's nice to see you, too," Evan snorted.

"Whatever," said Johnny, shouldering past him.

Evan turned to follow. "You know, I thought maybe after you retired you'd stop being such a bitch about everything all the time. But I guess that's just who you are."

"Yeah, Evan, exactly," said Johnny, rolling his eyes. "I'm an unreasonable diva bitch, thanks for the update. No one's ever told me that before. I guess I should have been more like you and sucked every dick in the federation, and then I'd have a shiny medal, too."

"Sucking dick was really more _your_ problem than mine," Evan said.

Johnny wanted to punch him, right in his stupid orange face. "No," he said loudly. People were starting to turn and watch them, coaches and skaters and rink employees. "Your problem was that you _wanted_ to suck my dick and you didn't have the guts."

Evan flushed. "Fuck you," he said. "You _wish_."

"Yeah," Johnny drawled. "That's right. I get off every night thinking about you fucking me. It's all I can think about, I can barely drag myself away from you and your magical gold-medal dick." He pitched his voice higher and lispier. "Oh, Evan, please, Evan _please_ , ohhhh, Evan, baby—"

"I hate you," Evan snarled, turned on his heel, and stomped off.

Johnny smirked after him triumphantly until he realized literally every single person in the rink was staring at him with varying degrees of horror. Well, fuck them. He wasn't ashamed of himself, and he didn't have to pretend to like Evan now that he was retired. It was kind of awesome. It was also just a tiiiiny bit embarrassing, but Johnny was really good at not thinking about that.

Tara appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Must you do that?" she hissed. "Like it's not hard enough to find sponsors and jobs? Are you _trying_ to make my life harder?"

"My life is hard, too!" Johnny said plaintively, but she ignored him as she pulled him away to meet the people from Fuji TV.

\--

There was a reporter from Fuji, who was tiny and lovely and spoke such quick Japanese that Johnny didn't even recognize the sounds, let alone any words. His job, apparently, was to stand there and nod while she talked the camera with big gestures and a lot of giggles and exaggerated faces, and then she'd turn to him and say something and wait patiently while he tried to remember if this question was, "What do you think of Japan?" or "Who do you think will get the gold medal?" or "How does it feel to be retired?" He smiled and said a lot of vague things about how great everybody was, and then she turned to what was always the favorite topic of Japanese reporters for some reason: what did he think of Japanese food?

"I love sushi," Johnny said, and she turned to the camera and said about a billion words with "sushi" and "Johnny Weir" scattered through somewhere.

"You can use... chopsticks?" she asked next, gesturing with her fingers.

"Oh, of course!" Johnny said. "It's not authentic if you don't use chopsticks." She made an amazed noise and started rapid-fire speaking at the camera again.

Johnny felt kind of like a trained monkey, but he smiled gamely and flirted with the camera, winking a couple of times, which seemed to cause the interviewer to get semi-hysterical, giggling behind her hand. Johnny loved Japan a lot. Everyone there thought everything he did was awesome.

"Okay, you have a free hour or two, please try not to start World War three with Evan Lysacek," Tara said.

"He started with me," Johnny said, but Tara wasn't listening to him anyway. It was really frustrating how she chose not to listen to him, usually when things were actually not entirely his fault. "I'm going to get a new agent," Johnny said. "Someone who'll be on my side and defend me." He stuck his lip out poutily.

"No, you really won't," said Tara. "Who else would put up with you? Besides, you love beating me at mini-golf too much." She gave him a one-armed hug and then an oddly serious look, which didn't really work on her. "You know I love you best, babe, but you'd be better off avoiding Evan this week. It just seems like you're jealous, and it makes you look bitter and catty. I know you don't like him, but if you smile and pretend we could spin it that he's the jerk, not you."

"But I'm actually _not_ the jerk!" Johnny protested. "He called me—"

"You're not a teenager competing against him anymore," Tara said. "You're both grownups. Age-wise, at least. Please, please, please, Johnny, for the millionth time."

Johnny was so aggravated he kind of wanted to throw himself on the ground and kick his heels and scream until everyone understood that he was not putting up with this shit. "But I _don't like him_ ," Johnny said. "I refuse to be fake about what I wear, or where I go, or what I do, and I won't be fake about Evan just because it would be easier for you!"

"Easier for you, too," Tara sighed.

"When have I ever done what was easy?" Johnny exploded. People were staring to watch them again, damn it. Johnny lowered his voice a little. "It's not _fair_."

Tara had her lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh at him. "You poor thing," she said. "Your life is so hard."

"Thank you for noticing!"

Tara patted his shoulder. "Why don't you go get yourself some cake? You're retired, you can do that now."

"I'm still not going to get fat," Johnny grumbled, but it wasn't a terrible idea. He let Tara soothe him a little more by telling him how great he looked and then he went to spend his free hours hunting down those Japanese snack cookies that looked like koala bears.

\--

Adam and Johnny had decided dinner was the best time to attempt anything. Johnny normally skipped dinner with the other skaters, because he hated it when they commented on how much or how little he was eating, but he wasn't a skater anymore so he wasn't technically invited, which meant he wanted desperately to be there. He was a complicated person with a lot of layers, okay?

Adam had not, in fact, brought decent clothes for dating anyone, at least not by Johnny's standards, and they didn't have time to go shopping. Johnny had made-do with what he had; skintight black jeans, a cute t-shirt, and a leather jacket that managed to make even Adam look just a tiny bit naughty. Johnny had considered styling his hair somehow, but it was a force of nature, and Johnny had seen the dire consequences of straightening it.

"Did you know her name means 'future'?" Adam whispered. "Isn't that _amazing_?"

"My name means 'patience of a goddamn saint,'" Johnny replied. Adam wasn't really listening, he was looking over at the table where Mirai was eating with big hearts in his eyes.

Johnny poked him. "Stop staring at her like that, it's borderline creepy," he said. "Tell me again what you're going to say."

"That maybe when we're done here, or if she's done early, or if we have some spare time or whatever, maybe we could—"

Johnny sighed. "Try again. Simple declarative statements. 'Hi, Mirai. Do you want to...'"

"Hi, Mirai," Adam echoed dutifully. "Do you want to go to dinner with me? Johnny, that's terrible, she's going to say no."

"She really won't," Johnny promised. "Try to look confident. Pretend you're skating. She's the audience, win her over." Johnny demonstrated, giving Adam his most devastating I'm-charming-your-panties-off-right-now-and-you-don't-even-know-it smile.

Adam blinked at him. "Wow," he said, cheeks turning pink. "I don't think I can do that."

"I've _seen_ you do that," Johnny said. "When you skate you flirt with the audience. Give me your skating smile."

Adam had to think about for a second, and then he turned his dazzling, adorable, put-my-picture-up-in-your-locker-and-sigh-over-me smile. It wasn't quite the same as Johnny's, but it was just as effective in its own way.

"Perfection," Johnny assured him. "Just give her that smile and ask her if she wants to go get dinner with you outside the cafeteria. And invite me to the wedding."

"Johnny, stop it," Adam said. He rubbed his hands nervously against the sides of his jeans. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I can do this." He wasn't moving at all, though, so Johnny helpfully gave him a shove toward Mirai's table.

Johnny tried to look nonchalant as he followed Adam. He had had every intention of hanging back and letting Adam go over by himself, but the odds of Adam chickening out were pretty high, so he tagged along.

Mirai looked up at Adam and beamed. Her smile was pretty devastating, too, in the way only a happy teenage girl could be. "Hi, Adam," she said.

"Hey," Adam replied, smiling shyly back at her, and just like that he was off-script and Johnny was pretty sure it was going to end in disaster.

"Hey," said Mirai, and then giggled at herself.

Adam smiled wider. "Hey," he repeated.

They were going to stand there smiling at each other all night, and Johnny was going to throw up all over the floor. "Adam has a question," Johnny said brightly, nudging Adam forward.

"Oh, hi, Johnny," Mirai said, as if she'd suddenly just noticed him there. Johnny stifled an eye-roll.

"Yeah, I was... I was wondering if... Um, how are you?" Adam asked, hands in his pockets. His cheeks were pink and he hadn't even asked her anything yet. How had he gotten to 21 without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment? And for god's sake, how had he ever managed to have sex?

"I'm really good!" Mirai said excitedly. "I'm so excited for my new long program, I hope I don't screw it up. I'm so nervous!"

"I bet you're going to be great," said Adam, smiling dopily. Mirai giggled.

Johnny couldn't stop himself, he said a little bit more loudly, "And Adam was wondering if..." while poking Adam sharply in the back.

Adam spared him a quick glare and then turned back to Mirai. "Yeah. Um. So. Cafeteria food is kind of bad, I think?"

"It's awful," Mirai agreed, giggling again.

"And I was kind of... Um... thinking of... Of not eating here?" Adam said.

Johnny wanted to shake him with both hands. How hard was it to roll up to someone, give them a lascivious look up and down, and say, "So, dinner? And then my place?" It worked like, 90 percent of the time Johnny tried it, and when it didn't at the very least it made the other person blush and laugh.

"Ohhhh," Mirai said. "That could be cool. There are some really great restaurants around."

"And you speak Japanese," Adam agreed.

"I totally do!"

"So you two should go get dinner together!" Johnny said, brimming with false cheer. "Wouldn't that be great? Dinner?"

Adam looked at Mirai, and Mirai looked at Adam. They were both blushing. "Um," said Adam.

Mirai looked down at her plate. "I kind of already have dinner?" she said. "But um. Tomorrow—"

"Tomorrow would be great!" Adam interrupted.

"It would be _so_ great," Mirai nodded.

Johnny blew out a long, deep breath. So _that_ was taken care of, and now he could stop fretting that Adam would cute himself right out of a date, thank god.

"What would be so great?"

Johnny gritted his teeth. Why was Evan Lysacek _always around_ and why was he _always interfering_? Evan was holding a tray of unappetizing food, looking from Mirai to Adam with a big dumb grin. Then he saw Johnny, and the smile slipped of his face.

"We're um. Going to dinner?" Mirai said.

"The food here's kind of awful," Adam added quickly. "So we just thought. Um."

"I can show him real Japanese food!" Mirai agreed. They looked at each other and she started giggling again.

"Huh," said Evan, frowning. He gave Johnny a long, dark stare that made Johnny cross his arms and put his shoulders back. What the hell was Evan's problem _now_?

"Isn't it great?" Johnny asked, trying to force a smile at Evan. He'd tell Tara he had _tried_ , at least. And then he'd demand she give him a foot massage. That would serve her right.

Evan didn't look convinced. "Dinner where? The three of you?"

"The two of them," Johnny corrected. He tried to send Evan a significant message with his eyebrows to shut the fuck up before he ruined all of Johnny's hard work. "They're going to get dinner. Just the two of them." _Get it?_ he tried to ask with a little tilt and nod.

"That does sound awesome," Evan agreed slowly. "Can I get in on that? I'd love to get some real Japanese cuisine with someone who knows how to order."

"Oh, um, I guess?" Mirai said, looking uncertainly at Adam.

Adam nodded. "Sure. If you want. That would be cool," he agreed, sounding confused and ever so slightly unhappy.

Johnny had tried, honestly he had. When he murdered Evan no one was going to be able to blame him. He grabbed Evan by one arm and said, "Excuse us," in a low voice, dragging Evan a couple of feet away.

"Excuse you," said Evan, shaking his hand off.

Johnny hissed, "Why do you hate happiness?"

"What? I don't hate — Why are you so weird?" Evan demanded, crossing his arms.

Johnny stamped his foot. He was so very tired of Evan Lysacek fucking with him all the time. "Why are you inviting yourself along on their date?"

Evan narrowed his eyes. "Why are you setting up their date?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Johnny snapped.

"Mirai is like my little sister, okay, and I don't think a chaperone is a bad idea," Evan said. "She's seventeen, and he's twenty-one. That's statutory."

Johnny stared at Evan, open-mouthed. "He's not going to _fuck her_ ," Johnny said. "Oh my god! He just wants to hold her hand and smile at her like an idiot! Have you met Adam? He's harmless!"

"No twenty-one year old man is harmless," said Evan grimly.

Johnny's hand balled itself into a fist entire of its own volition. "You—" he spluttered. "You totally selfish asshole! You're just doing this because you think it's my idea!"

Evan's face went distant and blank. "I have some experience with what you think dating is," he said coldly. "I would never let that happen to Mirai."

Johnny had no idea what Evan was talking about, but he knew when he was being insulted. "Fuck you," he said. His voice cracked a little bit, which was utterly unacceptable. It made him even angrier with Evan, somehow.

Evan ignored him and walked back over to Adam and Mirai. "How about noodles?" he asked, acting like nothing had just happened. "I really like those uh, what do you call them? The buckwheat ones?"

"Soba," said Mirai.

"Soba sounds wonderful," Johnny agreed, because _god damn it all to hell_ he wasn't going to let Evan ruin that date. If Evan was going to run interference, under the total delusion that Adam was a sex maniac, then Johnny was going to run interference interference, fuck you very much. Johnny smiled blandly at Adam. "I guess Evan and I will both tag along, since we have a local expert and all."

"Oh," said Adam faintly, looking confusedly at him and then Mirai. She shrugged. Adam shrugged back. Evan and Johnny smiled at each other and somehow Johnny managed to keep himself from wringing Evan's neck right then and there.

\---

"Stop smoking!" Tara said, smacking Johnny's hand away from his mouth.

"It's the first one I've had all day," Johnny whined. It didn't even smell good, he had no idea why he wanted one so badly. "I need some stress release. It's this or sex, and there's no one around to have sex with." He looked seriously at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Keep your snuffling to yourself," Tara said. She shivered. "What's so stressful? Can we go inside and watch weird Japanese TV until you feel better please?"

"I need air." He was around the corner of the hotel, where no one should have seen him, except he'd texted Tara where to find him. There were some Japanese businessmen smoking, too. Johnny paced back and forth a few steps, looking longingly at his cigarette where it had fallen on the pavement. He could bum a cigarette from one of the businessmen, he figured.

Tara crossed her arms, either because of the chill or because she was glaring at him. "What's got you so worked up?"

Johnny made a face. "You know how you always want me to warn you before I do something stupid and you have to deal with it?"

"Johnnnnnnny," said Tara.

Johnny threw his hands up helplessly. "Keep in mind this is not at all my fault!"

"Oh, god," moaned Tara.

"You're probably going to hear something tomorrow about how Evan and I are going out to dinner," Johnny said.

Tara gaped at him. "John G. Weir, you are _lying_ ," she said, horrified.

"Not just us," Johnny said. "Adam and Mirai are going to be there too. But Evan decided to be a total dick and I had to—"

"Escalate the situation," Tara interrupted.

He glared at her. "I'm trying to defuse it before Evan ruins everything. Evan is a ruiner."

"What am I supposed to _do_ with you?" Tara sighed. "Don't do this. Please."

Johnny said, "Oh, I'm doing this. I'm not going to let him _win_. After all the shit he's put me through, I'm not going to let him ruin someone else's happiness! Adam didn't do anything to him. I bet he thought Mirai would go along with it and just give up if he made it hard for Adam, but I'm not going to let that happen. Evan thinks he can just decide what happens when, and anything that gets in the way of his big life plan is just a hindrance he can ditch. Like what Evan wants is all that matters, and any excuse he cares to make fixes the things he's ruined. And if he thinks I'll just roll over and let him stomp all over Adam's heart he's got another think coming."

There was a little pause. "Sometimes," Tara said carefully, "when you rant about Evan, I think maybe you're not sharing the complete story with me."

"I — no, what are you talking about?" Johnny asked. He made his face blank.

Tara looked like she was trying to choose her words very, very deliberately. "I'm almost sure Evan has never stomped all over _Adam's_ heart," she said.

"He's _going_ to," Johnny insisted. His cheeks were starting to heat up, and he did not want to deal with this shit right now. Or ever.

"I've never gotten the impression Evan was into Adam," Tara said.

"No, he's — You're not paying attention!" Johnny snapped. "Never mind."

"Okay," Tara said soothingly. "Sure. Evan's a mastermind who's plotting to ruin Adam's life, and you have to stop him before he kills again. That completely sounds like lost-my-own-pants Evan Lysacek. Whatever you say, Johnny."

She was making fun of him, but Johnny really didn't want to fight about it anymore. He was right, and eventually he'd prove it. "No one takes me seriously when I tell them that Evan is being dastardly," Johnny complained, leaning against Tara's shoulder.

She rubbed his arm. "I'm taking you seriously," she promised. "At least, I expect some serious fall-out from this dinner thing tomorrow. Maybe we could spin it like the two of you have finally healed the rift and become friends. That could be news."

"If that ever happens you'll know it's my evil twin," Johnny said.

Tara tugged him toward the door of the hotel. "Babe, I hate to tell you this, but half the time you _are_ your own evil twin."

"I'm the pretty one, though, right?" Johnny asked.

"The very prettiest," Tara promised. Johnny was pretty sure she was patronizing him, so he grabbed her with one arm and tickled her with the other until she shrieked and tried to bat him away. "You're the prettiest princess ever, I promise!" Tara squealed. "Johnny! Johnny, stop molesting me!"

"I'll molest whomever I want," Johnny said, snuffling in her ear.

She pinched him sharply. "Evan," she hissed, and he froze, arms still around her waist.

Evan was standing in the lobby, giving him a deeply dubious look.

Johnny straightened up and smoothed his shirt, glaring at Evan until Evan dropped his eyes and turned away. "He's jealous because he doesn't have any friends to tickle," Johnny said haughtily, loudly enough for Evan to hear.

"I'm so sure," Tara said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the elevators.

\--

Johnny had to get up and do a lot of interviews with different Japanese television shows. It meant he was away from the rink, which was nice, because he was still having some pangs of jealousy-slash-regret when he watched other people skate. It was weirdly exhausting, being ushered around by people with no idea what he was saying when he had no idea what they were saying, either. Everything felt sort of blurry around the edges. It was probably left-over jetlag, but Johnny was really overwhelmed by all the flashing lights and noises and the sheer number of people around. When he'd traveled for skating he'd had a lot of time on his own in the rink, but doing press made him incredibly stressed out.

He was restless and grumpy when he finally got back to the hotel. He grabbed a bottle of green tea and spent a while doing his makeup in front of the well-lit bathroom mirror until he started to feel human again. Then he used his laptop to talk to his mom for a few minutes. It was mid-afternoon in Japan, so it was super-early in the morning at home, but Patti blinked and pretended to be awake while Johnny complained about having to go out to dinner with Evan.

"Why would he do that?" asked Patti, yawning.

"I don't know," Johnny said. "You know how he is. One day he's reasonable, the next day he's totally insane. I never understand why he does anything he does."

Patti shrugged and clutched her coffee a little more tightly. "Did you ever ask him why he was doing it?"

"Mama! Stop that. Don't you dare defend him to me," Johnny protested.

"I mean, usually he's a jerk," she corrected herself. "Honey, I'm going to back to bed. It's 4 AM here."

"Right, sorry," Johnny said. "I just miss you and I'm going out. Sleep well. Tell Dad I miss him. I'll be home next week."

"Take care, stay warm, make sure you eat enough," said Patti. "Love you." She clicked off the laptop camera.

Johnny hated being on the wrong side of the earth without his mom. Traveling was lonely. At least he looked fabulous, and he was going to have a fabulous time tonight. Fuck Evan. Johnny was a _master_ of romance. He could make a night out slurping noodles a story that Adam would tell at his wedding, damn it. He was the incomparable Johnny Weir, and Evan, after all these years, should have known who he was messing with.

\--

Adam was waiting in the lobby, looking a little awkward in a sports jacket that didn't quite fit him. He'd slicked down his hair with... Well, something Johnny did not approve of. That was going to be the hilarious part of the story later, when it was a wedding toast. Also, Johnny made a mental note that from now on he needed to check in with Adam about what he was wearing before they went out.

"Brian doesn't want me out late," said Adam fretfully. "Can we eat quickly? Will it still be romantic? Is it still a date if you guys are along? What if Mirai doesn't know it's supposed to be a date?"

"It's a double-date," said Johnny lightly. "I'm sure she knows. She'll definitely figure it out when you kiss her."

"When I—"

Johnny arched an eyebrow at him. "You _are_ going to kiss her, aren't you?"

Adam was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and his cheeks had gone entirely pink. "Not with you and Evan there!" he said. "Maybe not at all! I don't know! What if she doesn't want me to?"

"You wait for a moment to happen," Johnny said. "When there's that spark, that electricity between you. Then you kiss her. Don't ask her, just kiss her." Adam started to protest and Johnny overrode him. "I don't mean hold the girl down and do something reprehensible, I mean don't say, 'uh, Mirai, I was kind of wondering if, um, maybe you wouldn't mind...'" Johnny explained, pitching his voice up in a not-entirely-nice imitation of Adam's.

"I wasn't going to do that," Adam mumbled, looking at his sneakers. Johnny kindly did not call him a liar.

Mirai and Evan walked out of the elevator. Evan had his arm protectively around Mirai's shoulder, but she was short enough that he had to stoop a little and it made him look awkward. Johnny immediately put his arm around Adam and put his chin up, glaring at Evan. Evan glared right back.

"Hi!" said Mirai excitedly. She was really only looking at Adam, which was probably for the best.

"Hi," Adam said, lighting up.

"Weir," said Evan, narrowing his eyes.

"Lysacek," Johnny replied icily. Johnny wanted to pointedly suggest that he and Evan not go after all, but Evan was standing so close to Mirai he was practically breathing down her neck, so he obviously wasn't going to back down. "Where should we go?" Johnny asked blithely. "Mirai, do you know a place?"

"I got some recommendations," she said. She pulled a notebook with a figure-skating polar bear out of her pocket. "For real authentic soba we could go to a noodle stand, but I figured we'd want to sit down somewhere, and greasy soba is delicious, but maybe not a good idea?"

"My girlish figure thanks you," said Johnny.

She giggled at him. "I thought maybe, this place I got a recommendation for? Unless you don't want to. I really want to find the best possible place, and make sure everyone has something they like. I don't want anyone to be disappointed." She looked up at Adam for just a second, and that was a deliberate through-the-lashes glance, Johnny decided. She was flirting. Had Adam noticed? He turned to check, but Adam was still beaming at Mirai as if he'd had a very minor head injury recently.

Evan couldn't decide who he wanted to glare at more, so he kept switching from Johnny to Adam and back. Johnny could feel his blood starting to boil. Evan was ruining dinner and they hadn't even sat down to eat yet. He glared at Evan, just barely managing not to actually snarl. Evan narrowed his eyes right back.

"So I thought maybe conveyor belt sushi would be fun?" Mirai asked brightly.

Johnny switched from baring his teeth to tilting his head sassily and cocking his hip challengingly instead, because he knew it made Evan uncomfortable. Evan's hands tightened just a little bit on Mirai's shoulders.

"...unless you don't like sushi?" Mirai said, a little more quietly.

"I love sushi," Adam chirped. "Um. On a conveyor belt?"

Mirai smiled at him with relief. "It's so much fun," she said. "And there's a place we can walk to so we won't be out too late. Mr. Carroll doesn't want us to be out too late, and I just want to make sure we aren't."

"We won't be," said Evan darkly.

"You won't be," Johnny snapped.

"Mirai won't be," Evan corrected him.

"Then neither will Adam!"

Adam and Mirai were looking all kinds of horrified and confused. "Um," said Adam. "Brian wants me home early too, but not for like, a couple of hours at least. So... thanks for worrying, Johnny."

Johnny realized that action was required or Evan was going to tank everything. He grabbed Adam by one hand and Mirai with the other and pulled them toward the door of the hotel. "Conveyor belt sushi is my favorite," he said. "And it's not too cold to walk." He was viciously happy when Evan had to hurry after them. Once they were outside and safely walking down the sidewalk Johnny let go, nudging Adam and Mirai toward each other while he blocked Evan from interrupting.

"Remember to look the other way for traffic!" Mirai said cheerfully as they crossed the street. "Have you ever had conveyor belt sushi?"

"You'll have to tell me what stuff is," Adam said. "It's not all just fish, right?"

"There's octopus and eel and egg and all kinds of stuff!"

Adam made a little face. "Eel? That sounds kind of slimy."

Mirai's cheeks were turning pink in the cold winter wind. "I can't believe you're making fun of my culture!"

"What? I wasn't, I—" Adam stuttered, and then Mirai burst out giggling.

"You're so easy!" Mirai laughed. "Your face!"

Adam was laughing, too, but he gave her a little push sideways. "You could order _anything_ , I wouldn't know what it was. You could order... It could be... I don't even know, smelly rat feet or something, and you'd just sit there and laugh at me."

Mirai gave him a sassy hand-on-her-hip. "You'll just have to trust me, then, won't you?"

Johnny prayed quietly that Adam would pick up on how that was _totally flirting_. Behind him, Evan was trying to catch up, but Johnny was really good at using his elbows. He caught Evan in the stomach completely by accident — okay, partially by accident — and sent him a quick, fierce glare.

"Okay," said Adam, and very quietly slipped his hand into Mirai's. She giggled, and he giggled back, and they were getting a lot of stares from passers-by. Maybe that was because Mirai was a pretty big local celebrity, though.

"He's touching her," Evan hissed in Johnny's ear.

"That," said Johnny, "is the idea of dating. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I date plenty," Evan said.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Not with a girl you're paying."

"I'm pretty sure you just called Tanith a whore," Evan snarled.

"A beard," Johnny corrected. "And don't even bother, because she's _my_ friend now. And I know who you were interested in first, remember?"

Evan looked shocked and hurt, and for just a second Johnny was almost sorry. Almost, because it wasn't _his_ fault that Evan felt compelled to lie about who he was and what he wanted, and it wasn't _Johnny's_ fault that Evan had made the mistake of actually acting like a human being once up on a time. The tiny twinge of sorriness came from the fact that at one point Johnny had actually thought Evan was a decent person, someone he could be friends with. But he'd been wrong, and now he intended to revel in Evan's misery.

"I didn't... That's not what... Damn it, Johnny," Evan spluttered.

Mirai stopped in front of a well-lit glass door. "This is it! Is everyone hungry?" She beamed at Adam, who beamed back at her, and then they went in without letting go of each other's hands. Ha. Johnny was winning.

A lot of people looked up when they walked in, and some cell phones discreetly went off. Mirai talked to the girl by the door who bowed and said, "Irasshaimase!" They got stools sitting around the edge of the conveyor belt that ran around the sushi chefs standing and making food in the center of the room.

"Different color plates are different prices," said Mirai, "but nothing is too expensive, don't worry about it. If you have any special requests we can ask the chefs."

"You can ask," said Adam. He'd managed to snag the stool next to Mirai, but Evan had grabbed the one by him, so Johnny was stuck sitting by Evan. That was unacceptable. He tried to take joy in how awkward Evan looked sitting on a stool scaled for Japanese diners, but it was hollow, because he couldn't hear what Adam and Mirai were talking about.

"Stop elbowing me," said Evan, pushing Johnny's arm off the counter.

"Stop being in my way," Johnny replied, leaning around him.

"Stop arguing with every single thing I say!" Evan snapped.

Mirai gave them both a quick glare and snagged something off the conveyor belt that looked like scrambled eggs seat-belted to a rice square. Johnny automatically went to reach for something that was just fish, no rice, and then he remembered he wasn't competing and he could have as much rice as he wanted. He grabbed something green and purple instead and made a big show of savoring the rice in front of Evan, who glared.

"Is your parents' place like this?" Adam asked.

"No, it's traditional. I can show you sometime," Mirai offered, nervously rubbing her chopsticks together.

Evan shoved Johnny's plate down the counter a little bit. "Do you mind?"

"I mind you," Johnny said.

"Go make out with some more sushi," grumbled Evan. "Leave me alone."

"Right, you have very important snooping to do," Johnny said. He was irritable and grumpy and Johnny hated that Evan was tall enough to block most of his view of Adam and Mirai. "Can't you see how completely, utterly ridiculous you're being?"

"Mirai is like my sister," said Evan. "I'm not going to let some boy—"

"You sound like a lunatic," interrupted Johnny.

"—distract her from her practice and her focus on medalling." Evan grabbed a plate off the conveyor belt and managed to eat it smugly, somehow.

Johnny's first impulse was to grab a plate of something gooey off the conveyor belt and smash it in Evan's face, but they were in public, and a lot of the patrons seemed to want to talk to Mirai and take her picture, usually with her arm around Adam. Johnny was trying not to ruin that, even if he was the tiniest bit annoyed that no one wanted his picture. "Of course it's all about a medal to you," Johnny hissed. "There is life beyond the competition, you know. But it is just like you to try and get rid of anyone you think might get in your way."

"There's nothing wrong with having goals," Evan said. His voice had gotten deep and pissy and Johnny was pretty sure if he kept pushing he could make Evan so mad he might take a swing. Evan would get in an amazing amount of trouble, almost enough to make it worth it for Johnny, but Johnny had to be on camera in a couple of days.

"There's something wrong with putting winning before everything else," Johnny replied.

Evan sneered. "Says the guy who quit because he knew he couldn't win anymore."

Johnny gasped. "You _asshole_ ," he said, and maybe he was getting a little louder because people were starting to turn and watch them. Johnny was blinded by rage. "You could never have beaten me without the scoring change, you _never_ beat me when we were kids, you—"

"Ahem!" said Mirai, overly-loud and super happy. There was something mildly crazy about her eyes, though. "I think maybe you two should have this conversation outside, where no one's going to take pictures." She jerked her head toward an entire table full of people who were recording the skaters on their cellphones. "Isn't that a great idea?"

"I'm not leaving you two alone here," said Evan.

"What are they going to do in the middle of a restaurant?" Johnny demanded. He didn't really want to go outside, but anything Evan said, Johnny had to say the opposite. It was almost a compulsion.

"That's not the _point_ ," Evan started, and then rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's take this outside." He pushed himself off his stool and stomped toward the door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Johnny told Adam, and winked. Then he tightened his scarf around his neck and flounced out after Evan.

The sidewalk was crowded, but Evan was standing around the corner, arms crossed against the winter wind. "Why do you have to be such a dick all the time?" Evan started complaining immediately.

"You were being the dick this time," Johnny pointed out, feeling pretty self-righteous. "How _dare_ you."

"You were judging me!" Evan snapped.

"And you love being judged," Johnny shot back. "Because you're such a little suck-up rule-following brown-noser—"

"And you can't ever just shut up and accept what people think about you without bitching and bitching and making it worse!" Evan was shouting, and people in Japan didn't shout that much on the sidewalk, so it was drawing a bit of a crowd.

Johnny shoved him. It was a totally knee-jerk reaction to having Evan shouting in his face. Evan was so startled he stumbled back a step, and then his face went dark and he lunged for Johnny, grabbing his shoulders with both hands and slamming him back against the wall.

All the breath whooshed out of Johnny's chest and he slapped one of Evan's hands away, but Evan tried to slap back, and it degenerated into the two of them trying to knock each other's hands away and snarling incoherently at each other.

"Stop! Stop, stop it—" Evan snapped, grabbing Johnny's wrist. Johnny's other hand was pinned under Evan's side, and he didn't have the leverage or the weight to shove Evan off him.

The worst part was that some of Johnny's baser instincts liked it, enjoyed the feeling of Evan pressed up against him, and he couldn't help remembering that they'd done this before. He was so mad he could barely breathe. "Move, before I knee you in the nuts," said Johnny furiously. "Get _off_ me."

Evan tilted his hips away, but he was still using most of his weight to push Johnny against the wall. "Why can't we ever have a civil conversation?" he demanded. "Why are you so _difficult_?"

"I'm difficult?" Johnny demanded bitterly. "That's rich. You're the one who horned in on the date. You're the one who started arguing. You're the one who called me a quitter."

"Of course you don't understand," Evan said. "You never think about anyone's feelings but your own." Evan had moussed his hair to within an inch of his life, but it was hanging across his forehead now as he tried to slow his breathing and sound reasonable.

Johnny couldn't stand to have Evan so close to his space. He could smell Evan again, that weird mix of sweat and aftershave and hair gel, and it made his stomach flip over. "You're the one who doesn't care that he's ruining a first date." He shoved Evan with his free arm and his hips, deliberately trying to freak Evan out and get him to give Johnny some space. Evan still had a death-grip on Johnny's other wrist.

"Yeah," Evan said. "Okay, fine. I'm wary. Imagine if it was your little brother and some girl I introduced him to. Wouldn't you be suspicious?"

That analogy didn't work for a million reasons. Johnny's brother was older than Mirai, and he made his own dating decisions, and Adam and Mirai were already friends, and Johnny hadn't done anything. "You're stupid," said Johnny shortly.

Evan laughed. "I can always tell when I'm scoring points against you," he said. "You forget to make a flowery speech and start just calling names."

"You suck," said Johnny, trying to wrench his wrist free. "You suck, and I hate you."

Evan glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of murmuring Japanese people, most of whom had cellphones out. "I'll make you a deal," said Evan quietly. "Stop freaking out and I'll leave Mirai and Adam alone. Mostly."

"I don't understand what your problem is," Johnny said, trying to lower his voice, too. It was hard, though, because he wanted to yell and scream and get someone to haul Evan away forever.

Evan's face went through about seventeen emotions, one after the other, only two or three of which Johnny could identify. He saw Evan's equivalent of "deep thought," which made him sneer, and then "considering whether or not to do something," and finally, "resolve." Johnny wasn't sure what Evan was resolved to do, but it wasn't to let go of his wrist, which was starting to hurt.

"I don't know why this is hard for you," said Evan finally. "Except that you never were any good at taking responsibility for your own actions. But of course I... I mean, obviously I would be..." He stopped and took a deep breath. His voice got even quieter. "You remember our thing." It was a flat statement, not a question.

"I try not to," said Johnny through gritted teeth.

"I was... I liked you," said Evan. "I know it was stupid and naive, and I've spent a lot of time regretting it, but I liked you."

Evan's honesty was confusing and unsettling, and Johnny didn't enjoy it. "So?" he demanded. "You're the one who ditched me, as I recall. We had a date. You didn't show." He closed his mouth and pressed his lips together before anything stupid like _I liked you, too_ could slip out.

Evan nodded. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I tried to explain how I freaked out, but you never listened."

"I don't have any reason to listen to you," Johnny snapped.

"You messed me up!" Evan realized he was yelling again and schooled his face and voice into some semblance of normalcy. "I was basically still a kid, and you were confusing. You were too much. You liked me, you flirted with me, but you flirted with everyone. As near as I could tell you weren't serious about me, any more than you were serious about Stéphane. But we... When we... I really _liked_ you, and it scared me to death and I freaked out. I needed a few days to figure myself out. But by then you'd moved on and you wouldn't speak to me. You were never willing to actually listen to me anyway. I tried to talk to you, but you can't be reasonable, ever."

"You freaked out?" Johnny hated Evan, he hated the way Evan was trying to make him feel guilty. And he hated the weight that was sitting on his chest while he listened to Evan talk about their nameless thing. Plus, he was pretty sure Evan had just called him a slut, which he wasn't. "It wasn't you. It was your coaches." Evan flinched, and Johnny pressed on, joylessly determined to draw blood. "They warned you that getting mixed up with me would ruin your chances. I was the stumbling block between you and the podium. You let them talk you out of it, and if you'd _ever_ really liked me you wouldn't have." It hurt, and his voice kept trying to break, but Johnny rallied, keeping his chin up even when his breathing wasn't at all steady.

"They... Yeah, I heard some stuff," Evan admitted. "I needed time to figure it out! But when I tried to talk to you, you _laughed_ at me. You made fun of me for not being as reckless as you were. And you trampled all over me, god damn it, Johnny. You never thought about me as anything but one more conquest, and I... I needed..."

"I don't care what you needed," Johnny said. His eyes were starting to sting. It was probably because Evan was still clutching his wrist. "I needed you to show up like you said you were going to. I trusted you. You made me feel stupid and I _hate_ that."

"You punished me for years," Evan countered. "You're still doing it. And you think I'd let Adam do that to Mirai, even for a second? Fuck you."

Johnny finally, _finally_ managed to twist his arm free. His wrist burned where Evan had been holding it. He was going to have a bruise there later. "Adam's not me, you stupid asshole," Johnny said.

"I have to make sure," said Evan.

They stared at each other, neither one of them particularly steady or calm. The crowd of Japanese people were murmuring to each other, and the last thing on earth Johnny needed right now was video of Evan shoving him up against a wall surfacing on YouTube tomorrow. If someone had asked him about Evan Lysacek at that second — and people were _always_ asking him about Evan — Johnny would have called him every name in the book including a few that would have gotten him sued.

"They aren't us," said Johnny finally. "How much do you need to see to figure that out?"

"More than ten minutes of sushi," said Evan. "If I try and back off, give them some space, will you please stop picking a fight with me every thirty seconds?"

"I wasn't — Fine," Johnny spat. "I can be on my best behavior. Can you?"

It was a challenge, and Evan had always loved a challenge. It was, unfortunately, one of the things Johnny had always found hottest about him. "Of course I can," Evan scoffed. "I'm so much better than you at playing nice."

"You wish," said Johnny. He knew he'd won, but at the same time he hated letting Evan think _he'd_ won.

"Watch me," said Evan. He smiled at Johnny, big and insincere, and then turned and waved at the crowd, who made a lot of excited noises. Camera flashes went off everywhere. Evan put his arm around Johnny's shoulder like they were best buds and they posed for a minute, long enough for everyone to lose interest and start wandering away. "See?"

"Fake orange bastard," Johnny murmured under a big smile.

Evan held the door to the sushi restaurant open for him. "Thanks for always bringing out the best in me, Weir."

\--

The rest of dinner was mostly uneventful. Mirai and Adam were interrupted every few minutes by people who very politely bowed and asked for autographs and pictures, and Johnny had to suffer through a few with Evan's arm around his shoulder, but the sushi was good. Mirai did that thing teenage girls did where they pretended to poke or hit someone because they wanted an excuse to touch them, and Adam was starry-eyed the whole time, so it seemed to be okay. Johnny didn't blame Adam for not making a move with Evan looming over his shoulder like a big disapproving orange gargoyle. But Johnny mostly kept his mouth shut and Evan didn't look at him, so they managed to behave themselves.

They walked back to the hotel shamefully early for a date, but a little bit late for competitive athletes, and as they rounded the last turn to the entrance Johnny grabbed Evan's arm. "Just... hang back a few steps, okay?" he said. "I know you think Adam is a slavering hormone wolf, but you're definitely cockblocking him."

Evan made a face, like he wanted to loom even closer over their shoulders, but he didn't. He and Johnny stopped and Adam and Mirai kept walking, hands brushing.

"She likes him," Johnny pointed out, trying not to start another fight but unable to keep all the "duh" out of his voice.

"She's seventeen, and she likes basically everyone," said Evan.

It was dark outside, but Japan never looked dark; there were so many neon signs and big flashing displays everywhere that Johnny had never understood how people slept well. Orange and green and white lights flashed across Evan's face, advertising something with a lion face on it. Adam and Mirai were standing under the lights in front of the hotel holding hands, Adam bent over a little to say something.

"Maybe she has better taste than you think," Johnny said.

"She likes me; how good can her taste be?" Evan asked. Johnny blinked. Evan chuckled. "Come on, you were thinking it."

"I was," Johnny admitted. "Uh. Sorry?"

Evan shrugged. "I'm holding you as the first strike against Adam, so, you know. It makes sense. He is a nice kid, I guess." He squinted at Adam and Mirai. "Jesus, has anyone ever taken this long to make a move before?"

Johnny started to laugh and then caught himself. He always forgot that Evan was funny. "Adam tells me he's hooked up with girls before, but I have my doubts."

"Girls? Seriously?" Evan asked, with just the right amount of respectful incredulity.

"That was _my_ first question, but..." Johnny waved a hand around. "You can like all kinds of different people in this lifetime, I guess."

Evan was staring at him, but with the lights flashing on his face Johnny couldn't figure out his expression. "Yeah," said Evan.

It was deeply weird trying to make small-talk with Evan, but Johnny didn't want him to interrupt Adam and Mirai. "Japan's nice. A little claustrophobic, but nice. There are going to be pictures of us from tonight up all over the web tomorrow."

"Tomorrow nothing, I bet they're already up," Evan said. "That's good, though, right? Aren't you here to..." He shrugged again. "I mean, it's that self-promotion thing you do."

"I'm here because Fuji TV asked me to do some commentary and I have book tour interviews," said Johnny, annoyed.

"But getting your picture taken doesn't hurt."

"Getting it taken with you does."

Evan frowned. "I thought we agreed not to start again."

Johnny made a frustrated noise. "You make it so difficult," he said.

"Yeah, well, I can only imagine what your commentary about my skate is going to be."

Johnny glared daggers at him. "I'm a professional," he said, ignoring the fact that he had totally already thought of a bunch of back-handed insults for Evan's skating.

"Oh, I just bet," said Evan. "I—"

"Shh!" hissed Johnny, grabbing his arm again. Adam leaned down and kissed Mirai. It was the tiniest, briefest kiss Johnny had ever seen, but it was really, really sweet. "Awww," Johnny said. "Did you see that? God. That was adorable."

"He better keep his mouth to himself," Evan grumbled, but with barely any of the annoyance he'd had before. "She can't skate and concentrate if she's thinking about boys. Isn't that why your coach never let you..."

Johnny said, "I did anyway." Evan stared at him. "What?"

"But you have to listen to your coach, they look out for you!" said Evan, scandalized.

"Oh, Evan," Johnny sighed. "We have to get you deprogrammed."

"I'm going inside now," said Evan, ignoring him. "It's way past time Mirai and I got to sleep, we have practice tomorrow and Frank wants us to be focused. Adam is... Maybe a nice kid, but I'm not going to let him interfere with Mirai's training. Consistency is the key to winning."

Johnny tried to figure out if that was a dig at him, but it was too dark out and the lights were flashing too much. "Fine," he said.

Evan walked toward the hotel and Johnny was forced to follow him, since that was where he was going, too. Adam and Mirai were still holding hands and smiling at each other, right until Evan put his hands on Mirai's shoulders and started steering her toward the elevator. "'Night," Evan said.

"Yeah," Johnny said, frowning. Being nice to Evan was hard and it felt weird. It made him need to clean and organize something.

"See you tomorrow!" Mirai chirped at Adam, and he grinned at her. Evan had to tug her hand to get her to step into the elevator. She was still waving when the door shut.

"Oh _mannnn_ ," Adam sighed. "That was great. That was _so_ great."

Johnny patted his shoulder. "Glad I could help. So now you two are all set? Going home to meet the parents and picking out china?"

"Johnny," Adam said. "You're so weird."

"As long as you don't need me anymore," said Johnny, pretending to well up and brush away a tear. "Like a baby bird that's left the nest, I want you to spread your wings, and—"

"You're not abandoning me," Adam said quickly, worried. "Are you? I have no idea what I'm doing."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "You're flirting with a pretty girl who likes you. That's not rocket science." Adam looked a little pouty, and Adam's pout was pretty devastating. "Fine, _fine_ ," said Johnny. "I'll hang around and make sure she doesn't suddenly decide she hates you, even though you totally don't need my moral support."

"True," said Adam sunnily. "I mostly need you to make sure Evan doesn't scare her away. Thanks for that, by the way!"

Johnny glared at him. "I thought you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, no, the tension between you two was crazy," said Adam. "I always thought Stéphane was joking about how you two used to have a thing, but... Wow. I couldn't tell if you guys were going to swing at each other or start having sex on the conveyor belt."

Johnny spluttered at him for a second and then marched toward the elevators, lips pursed and trying not to blush. Adam was insane. That was the only explanation. "I'm not going to help you at all if you're going to blaspheme like that," he said shortly.

Adam laughed. "Sorry. I'm just saying. You two went out and you came back with your clothes all disheveled and your hair all messed up, and Mirai kept giggling that you were having alley sex. You weren't, though, right?"

"Wash your mouth out with soap," said Johnny. "Ew. No." Johnny stabbed at the elevator buttons with annoyance.

"Okay," Adam said agreeably. "Whatever you say. That's what I figured."

Johnny suspected Adam was just humoring him, which made him want to hit things. "Don't go figuring anything," Johnny ordered.

Adam tried very hard to look innocent as the elevator doors slid shut. "Okay," he said. "I won't."

\--

Johnny went to the rink the next morning with Tara, wearing huge oversized sunglasses and a ton of sparkles, hoping no one would look at him. "That doesn't make any sense," Tara argued.

"I'm like a jungle bird," Johnny said. "No one will notice my beautiful plumage unless it's not there."

"You're like a lunatic," Tara said.

There were a decent number of skaters warming up and working out, but Johnny was able to ignore most of them and focus on his promos for Fuji. It distracted him from the sore throat he was starting to get, just like always when he had to fly around the world. It wasn't until nearly lunchtime when Adam came running up, phone in hand, that he started to worry.

"Did you see?" Adam said. "Check out what got twittered last night."

Johnny squinted at the tiny phone screen. It was a deeply incriminating photo of him and Evan leaning against the wall outside the sushi place. Shadows meant that you couldn't clearly see their faces, plus the cant of Johnny's hips and the placement of Evan's arm made it look like a stolen moment rather than a homicide in progress.

"Fuck," said Johnny.

"I'm not assuming anything," said Adam cheerfully. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation."

"We were trying to kill each other," said Johnny.

"Sure looks it," said Adam and grinned. Johnny had to remember that just because Adam looked sweet and innocent didn't mean he was. Yu-na was definitely having a mischievous influence on him.

"Shut up, we were," Johnny said. "Has Evan seen this?"

"I figure he must have, since ten people emailed _me_ about it," Adam said.

Johnny swore under his breath. "Why didn't anyone email me?"

"You were there, right?" Adam grinned. "You already know you made out with Evan. I mean, didn't make out with Evan. Because clearly this is not a photo of the two of you gettin' busy."

"Who taught you that language?" Johnny demanded.

Adam laughed. "Gettin' busy, gettin' down," he sang to himself, doing an especially stupid little dance.

"Go away," said Johnny shortly.

"You can tell me the truth," Adam wheedled. "You two totally hit it, right?"

Johnny glared at Adam over the top of his sunglasses. "I don't remember you being this obnoxious before."

"Whatever. If you don't tell me, Stéphane will. He loves to gossip." Adam skated back out onto the ice, where Brian was waiting, looking particularly pained.

"Don't lose focus and lose the medal and then blame me," Johnny said. "Mirai is watching, you'd better do a good job."

"Gold medal, baby," Adam winked.

Possibly Johnny had taught him too much. He frowned disapprovingly. Adam was skating well, though. He always looked loose and happy, even when he was warming up for a big competition, but today he was especially footloose and fancy-free. Johnny envied him all that youthful energy. In another five years injuries would have worn him down, and disappointment, and stupid fucking pictures on stupid fucking Twitter.

"So you saw it, I guess?" Evan said. He had a habit of appearing suddenly behind Johnny, and Johnny did not appreciate it.

"The picture?" Johnny asked. He crossed his arms. "Yeah."

Evan waited for a second, and then said, "So? Are you planning to do anything about it?"

"Like what?" Johnny snapped. "Go back in time and make it not happen somehow? If you're so worried about it, maybe you should stop getting handsy with me in public. No one's going to be surprised that _I'm_ in an alley with a man, but you have sponsors to worry about."

Evan looked baffled briefly. "You— Oh. Dude, do you do that?"

"Yes," said Johnny. "Don't you know all homosexuals spend all their time in back alleys getting sodomized? I'm sure Frank can warn you all about it."

Evan rubbed his forehead, like Johnny was a particularly nasty sinus headache. "Okay, I'm going to assume you're just fucking with me. Are you really not planning to say anything about the Twitter picture?"

"I just saw it," Johnny said. He shrugged. "What am I supposed to say that won't make it sound worse? Hasn't your PR team already come up with a buttload of plausible deniability?"

"Does that mean spin?" Evan asked. "I guess. I'm supposed to say that we're talking in the alley, and now that you're retired we're friends again."

"We were never friends," Johnny said coldly.

Evan sighed and threw his hands up. "Except for how we _were_. That's how all the trouble started, remember? Because we were having fun, and goofing around, and then suddenly—"

"Shut up," Johnny hissed, looking around furtively.

"Hey, I finally found something that embarrasses Johnny Weir," Evan gloated. "Nice."

"Yes," Johnny agreed. "You embarrass me, okay? I can't believe I ever had such bad taste."

"I'm trying to imagine what you'd be saying to me right now if we hadn't agreed to be nice to each other."

Johnny glared at him. It was unfortunate that Evan was immune to Johnny's standard glare. "Go away."

Evan shrugged with one shoulder. He was really so awkward looking almost all the time. "I actually came to tell you that Mirai says she and Adam are both scheduled for a late practice tonight. Then she giggled. Which, in seventeen-year-old-girl speak I assume means they're gonna make out."

"So you plan to be there?" Johnny asked.

Evan fixed him with a really pointed glare. "Sometimes," Evan said quietly, "playing around and silly kissing can turn in to something that gets people in over their heads."

Johnny felt the flush creeping into his cheeks and thanked god he was still wearing his sunglasses. "They aren't that stupid," he said.

"I'm going to stick around and make sure they aren't," Evan agreed.

Johnny hated that Evan was almost making sense. "I'll be here, too, then," he said. "Can't let you have all the bitter maiden aunt fun."

"Does that mean chaperone?"

"Essentially," said Johnny.

Evan waited a beat and then grinned at him. "Imagine what Twitter's going to think of us hanging out at the rink together late at night."

"We're old rivals reviving our friendship," Johnny said. "Right?"

Evan said, "Something like that."

\---

  


It did look like a clandestine tryst, damn it, and Johnny couldn't figure out a way to defuse the situation. He invited Tara along, as an eye-witness that he and Evan weren't up to any hanky panky, but she had dinner plans with some Japanese friends. He'd figured at least Frank would be there, but Frank was apparently too old and cranky to go to the rink after-hours. There was security and a couple of USFSA officials, and janitors, but no one who Johnny would have trusted to defend his reputation.

Adam and Mirai were skating and pretending not to be spending all their time looking at each other. She kept getting distracted and doubling her jumps, and maybe Evan did have a point about that, too. Damn it!

Evan was sitting on the benches, watching them. "It's pretty cute," he said quietly.

There was no one else to talk to, so against his better judgment Johnny sat down next to him. "I keep telling you," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Evan said. "You're always right."

"You should have figured that out by now," Johnny agreed primly. The lights were going out in the hallways but the rink was still fully lit. "How did they arrange this?"

"Mirai batted her eyes and said some stuff in Japanese I didn't understand. What if she's an evil mastermind and no one told me?"

Johnny laughed. "Adam has a sarcastic streak no one warned me about."

"It's always the innocent-looking ones." Out on the ice Mirai was trying to persuade Adam to skate hand-in-hand with her, and he was pretending to consider it. It degenerated pretty quickly into some kind of ice tag game that was so heart-wrenchingly familiar to Johnny that he had to look away. Evan was watching him, though. "You miss it?" he asked.

"What, being a hormonal teenager?" Johnny asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "No."

"The ice," Evan said, with an eye-roll. "Skating. C'mon, it must be killing you a little bit watching everyone else skate."

Johnny smacked him on the arm. "I thought you were trying to be nice to me now."

"I'm trying to talk to you, which I haven't done in, like, five years," Evan said. "Sorry. We don't have a whole lot else to talk about."

"It's awesome," said Johnny. "I love not having to get up at the crack of dawn feeling like I got run over by a bus. My knees have stopped hurting all the time and my hip almost feels like a normal person's hip again. I'm not covered in bruises from head to toe. I can sleep at night without waking up from anxiety dreams that make me vomit. I don't spend half my life terrified I'm going to screw up and ruin my entire career."

Evan considered that for a second. "But you miss it, right?"

Johnny sighed. "Sometimes it's like I'm missing an arm," he said. "I always knew I'd retire eventually. It's just... Weird. I don't like being here and watching you. Watching them. It makes me feel left out. I feel like I'm drifting."

Evan nodded and looked at his sneakers. "I... I'm thinking about retiring."

"Of course you are," said Johnny. "We're old." Evan was obviously not serious about it. Adam and Mirai were doing some very silly imitation ice-dancing. If either one of them hurt themselves playing around Johnny and Evan were going to be in so much trouble.

"Yeah, but... What else am I gonna do?" Evan asked plaintively. "I can't write a book or design clothes. I'm a skater."

"I'm a skater, too," Johnny said, annoyed.

Evan rolled his eyes. "You were never _just_ a skater, though. You had all this... stuff."

"Your eloquence always impresses me," said Johnny. He rubbed his throat with one hand. He'd been hoping the soreness would go away if he just ignored it, but he was starting to worry about his voice when he was commentating.

"I don't have all that stuff," Evan insisted. "It's scary."

"Yeah. It is," said Johnny.

Evan grinned at him. "See? We can totally get along."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Aaaaand you've ruined it.

Evan shrugged. "I'm just saying. So uh. How's Stéphane?"

"He's... I don't know, he's in Switzerland," said Johnny. "How should I know?"

"I thought maybe you'd know, because you two were... I mean, you were, weren't you?"

Evan looked so uncomfortable that Johnny almost didn't want to make fun of him. "You mean did we hook up? A while ago. It was a mistake. We're friends, but having sex with the guy doesn't give me magical insight into his daily life."

"You get around," said Evan. He sounded admiring, but Johnny still wanted to punch him.

"Stop calling me a slut," Johnny snapped. "You've always thought I was sleeping with half the skaters in the world. If I were getting some I wouldn't mind, but I'm basically celibate, and you make a big deal out of—"

"Oh, come on," said Evan. "I know you hooked up with at least two of us."

"And you hooked up with Tanith, so don't—"

"That's different! I wasn't dating anyone else at the time!"

Johnny punched him again. "You always assume the worst of me," he said.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Stop hitting me. You never talk to me, you just get sarcastic and bitchy and make fun, so how the hell am I supposed to know if you're telling the truth or just being an asshole?"

"I'll hit you if I want to," grumbled Johnny, crossing his arms.

Adam tripped on the ice and fell on his ass, and when Mirai leaned over to help him up he pulled her down, too, shrieking. They flailed around for a second and then Adam kissed her. It was pretty chaste, but Evan's face got stormy.

"Leave them alone," Johnny ordered. "Jesus Christ, you aren't her chastity belt."

"I have a responsibility," Evan said. "I'm giving them sixty seconds and then I'm interrupting."

"What about romance?" Johnny asked crossly.

Evan glared at him. "As I recall, we hooked up first and 'romance' came later."

"As _I_ recall," Johnny snapped, "the romance part never happened because you never showed up."

"How many times do you want me to apologize for that?" Evan asked.

"Until I believe you," huffed Johnny.

Evan considered for a second, and then got down on one knee on the rubber mats under the seats. He grabbed Johnny's hand with both of his big gorilla hands and said earnestly, "Oh, Johnny. If only you could forgive me—"

"Stop it," said Johnny, trying to pull his hand free. "Oh my god, Evan, stop it right now."

"Please, Johnny?" Evan said, getting louder. Johnny could feel his face turning red, and Evan was clutching his hand too tightly for him to squirm away. Evan was nearly shouting. "Johnny Weir, you have to forgive me! Please, Johnny! Oh, Johnny, please, _please please_ —"

"I hate you!" Johnny hissed.

"For the sake of my poor, broken heart!" Evan shouted over-dramatically. People outside could probably hear him. "You must believe me, Johnny, please!" He kissed Johnny's hand fervently, and Johnny wanted to die.

"Stop, Evan, you lunatic," said Johnny. He was so red he felt like he was about to burst into flames.

"Forgive me," repeated Evan firmly.

Adam and Mirai had gotten up and skated over, leaning against the edge of the rink curiously, watching them. The janitors and staff were edging around, too, trying to figure out what the noise was. "Fine," Johnny said quickly. "I forgive you. Now _get up_ before I actually _kill you_."

Evan beamed at him. "Awesome!" he said, and then instead of standing up he just kind of lunged at Johnny and hugged him. It was awful, all arms everywhere and he nearly knocked Johnny backwards off the bench. Johnny couldn't get a good enough grip to shove him off so he just had to sit there and be hugged by Evan. Who smelled disturbingly Evan-ish, and Johnny... Well. He didn't hate it. He really, really hated how much he didn't entirely hate it. Under pain of torture he would never have admitted it, but there was something sort of comforting about how Evan hugged, like a really big stupid puppy who was going to drool on his designer clothes, but who was wretchedly cute anyway.

Adam started a slow clap. Mirai joined in enthusiastically. Johnny was going to have to kill all the witnesses.

"Brings a tear to the eye," said Adam.

Evan turned to glare at them. "This is grown up business," he said. "Go away before I stuff you both in a locker." Mirai giggled so hard she had to hide her face in Adam's sleeve. Adam just grinned at them.

"You can stop strangling me now," said Johnny.

Evan did not, in fact, let go of Johnny's neck. He was all arms and elbows and he was going to give Johnny a black eye if he wasn't careful about the way he moved around. "But you'll move away," Evan pointed out, as if this wasn't a perfectly reasonable thing to do when you were being mauled by Evan Lysacek.

"You're getting orange all over my collar," Johnny objected, squirming.

Evan sighed and let go. "Fine," he said. "But you forgave me. No take backs."

"We totally witnessed it!" Adam chirped.

"Are you two done playing footsie so I can go home? I'm going to need to shower for hours," said Johnny. He was trying to sound acid and bitchy, but he suspected it wasn't working because Evan was still smiling at him like a doofus.

"Are we done?" Mirai asked Adam, beaming.

"I'm not done," he said, smiling back at her.

"You're both done," said Evan firmly. He stood up and waved Mirai off the ice like he was a traffic cop. She sighed heavily and waved to Adam, who blew her a kiss. Johnny pretended to throw up and Evan turned to give him an _I know, right?_ look.

Johnny pointed to the door. "Hotel," he ordered.

Adam just grinned cheekily at him and waggled his eyebrows. Johnny wanted to look grumpy but his cheeks were still pretty pink. "I'm still not assuming _anything_ ," Adam assured him. "Don't worry. That totally looked like two guys who hate each other."

"I hate you," Johnny grumped, but he let Adam buy him weird Japanese snacks and talk about how cute Mirai was, and he forgot to stay mad.

\--

There was a practice session in the morning, and the short skates that afternoon. Johnny had a couple of things to get done in the morning for the book. He got them done as quickly as he could because his throat was still feeling achy and he wanted to catch a nap before he had to go on air and smile and talk about other people skating.

He'd just closed his eyes when someone knocked on his door. Johnny moaned and hid his face under his pillow, but they knocked again. He was going to kill Tara if she was disturbing him when she knew he needed his beauty sleep.

Johnny stomped over to the door and pulled it open a crack. "What?" he said. "Oh. Evan?" He squinted uncertainly at him. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing right now?"

"I'm on my lunch break," said Evan. "If Frank finds out he'll kill me. I'm not really supposed to be talking to you."

"He's your coach, not your dad," grumbled Johnny. He let Evan in, though. Evan was clutching a paper bag, which was a little strange.

"I'm only here for a second. I don't need more trouble with Frank. He's looking murderous today. Mirai better skate amazingly or he's going to be out for blood. He thinks we're playing around too much this week. Practice makes perfect and he expects perfection."

Johnny made a face. "Doesn't he ever freak you out? He acts like you guys aren't human."

"I want to do my best as long as I'm skating," said Evan seriously. "I don't ever want someone to think I wasn't giving it my all."

"God forbid," said Johnny dryly, and then coughed.

"Oh, right!" Evan said, and thrust his paper bag at Johnny. "Tara said you were feeling kind of sick, so I brought you soup. I looked for chicken, but they don't really have that here, so I got you miso soup instead. It has those floaty green things and the little tofu cubes in it."

Johnny was confused. He took the styrafoam container out of reflex because Evan was handing it to him, looking eager and a little bashful. "You brought me soup?" Johnny said blankly.

"The old lady at the store told me it's good for you," Evan said. "I guess old ladies everywhere like to give people soup. She tried to give me wasabi, too, and some weird thing that looked like beans covered in snot which she promised would make you healthy, but I was like... Ewww."

"I don't..." Johnny was staring at his hand like it had sprouted wings, he realized, and looked up. It didn't make any more sense when he looked at Evan, though. "Why did you bring me soup?"

"Tara said you weren't feeling well," said Evan.

"But..."

Evan shrugged. "I just kind of thought, you know. Since we're being nice and all now. That you might appreciate a gesture of goodwill."

"But this isn't what we _do_ ," Johnny objected. He felt like he was out to sea with no raft. He was clutching the stupid container of soup tightly enough that the lid threatened to burst off.

Evan peered anxiously at him. "Am I reading this whole thing wrong?" he asked. "Because I got the impression that you wouldn't mind if we—"

"I'm only just getting used to not wanting to punch you in the face all the time," Johnny said. "You're skipping steps! You can't just jump over the part where I decide if I can tolerate you or not. It's confusing."

"Good," said Evan. "You always confuse me."

Johnny put the soup carefully down on the table in his hotel room. He was deeply unsettled. "Thanks," he said. "That was really unexpected, but it's nice of you. I think."

"I had an ulterior motive," said Evan seriously.

"Ha," Johnny said, feeling immediately better.

Evan fretted for a second, and then he said, "Tell me if I'm way off base, here. I can't tell if I'm reading you wrong anymore." Then he grabbed Johnny's arm with one of his giant hands and leaned down and kissed him.

Johnny had no idea what to do, so he just stood there. Evan wasn't a bad kisser, and he'd always been so enthusiastic that it made up for his deeply ridiculous kissing technique. Someone had taught him how to kiss in the last five years, though; he wasn't all excitement and tongue anymore. He was being tentative and patient, although Johnny could feel the barely-hidden surge of energy underneath it. He also had chapped lips, which Johnny objected to, on the grounds that no one was too busy for a little lip balm.

He hadn't even noticed that they'd moved until Johnny's back hit the wall. "Wait, hang on," Johnny said, turning his face away. Evan made a sad noise. "I'm sick, you don't want to kiss me right now."

"I thought you might not let me later," Evan said, leaning his forehead against Johnny's. He cupped Johnny's chin with his free hand, tilting his face up. "I can't ever tell what's really going on with you."

"This isn't what I thought you wanted," said Johnny. He felt weirdly breathless and he knew he was blushing again. He hated how fair he was, and how it always gave him away.

Evan nodded, but he didn't move away. Johnny had no idea what to do. Part of his brain was screaming for him to shove Evan and tell him to go to hell. Part of his brain liked how big and solid Evan felt pressed against him. Johnny was left flapping his hand helplessly, trying to come up with something, anything to say.

"But this was pretty good, before," said Evan. "Before it was so, so bad." He leaned in closer, talking almost against Johnny's mouth.

Johnny knew they shouldn't. He wasn't feeling well and Frank was going to kill Evan and it was only going to implode and end badly again. "It was," he breathed, because he couldn't help it. Evan was right there, and he smelled amazing, and his hands were warm, and Johnny wanted. He only had to push up on his toes a tiny bit because Evan was already leaning down, and then he let himself kiss Evan like he'd been wanting to all week.

He wound his arms around Evan's neck, and Evan put his hands on Johnny's ass — he'd always been a fan — and hitched him up a little bit against the wall. It was messy and a little awkward, and so, so hot. Evan was rushing and frantic, trying to put his hands and his mouth everywhere all at once, and Johnny knew he had to rush back down to the rink, but he needed Evan to stop making those desperate little noises. Johnny pulled him in more tightly and kissed him, as slowly and deeply as he could manage.

Evan moaned, chest heaving, and pulled back. "I have to go," he whispered.

Johnny nodded. "I have to fix my hair," he said. "You fucked it all up."

Evan grinned and tugged on Johnny's bangs. "It's better like this," he said. "You look like you've been having sex with someone really, really hot."

"Shut up," said Johnny fondly, shoving him away. "Frank's going to kill you."

"Yeah," Evan said, ducking his head. "You're going to be watching the skating?"

"I'm commentating," Johnny said.

Evan shrugged and bounced on his toes a little. "So when you say something mean about my jumps, I'll know that means you're rooting for me."

"If you want to think that, go ahead," said Johnny. "I'm here for Adam."

"I'm on to you, Weir," said Evan. He started to walk away and then ducked back, kissing Johnny one more time. "I really have to go," he said.

Johnny nodded. "You really do," he said. "Get away from me. Go. Leave me alone with my soup."

Evan chuckled a little. "Okay." He walked out without looking back again.

Johnny needed a moment. He picked up the soup again and stared at it, like it could explain what had just happened. Had he really just let Evan kiss him? Screw that; had he really just kissed Evan? They hadn't said anything about what it meant, or doing it again, but Johnny expected next time he saw Evan things would be... different. He wasn't sure what to do with the idea that it might be nice to see Evan. What was he going to tell people?

Evan had brought him soup. Johnny wasn't even feeling that bad, but Evan had asked Tara and gotten soup, and Johnny didn't know how to handle that. It was different. It felt... hopeful.

After an uncertain minute Johnny put the soup in his tiny hotel fridge and folded the paper bag neatly. Then he went into the bathroom to work on his makeup and resolutely didn't think about what was going to happen later.

\--

Johnny got stared at a lot in Japan, and he was never sure if it was because he was Johnny Weir or if it was just because staring was a thing people did there. Normally he didn't mind — who was he kidding, he reveled in it — but he felt like he had 'JUST KISSED EVAN LYSACEK' stamped across his forehead. He'd fixed his makeup and his hair; they couldn't tell he'd been doing anything. Johnny just couldn't quite believe there wasn't a blinking neon light following him around.

The interviews were a little weird, as always, but Johnny played for the camera and flirted a lot. The Japanese sportscasters had some kind of joke going on behind him he couldn't understand at all that involved a hat that looked like hamster ears. Johnny wore it, briefly, and everyone applauded. Whatever; it was never going to be broadcast in America. He'd seen a commercial with Bruce Willis selling gas on his hotel TV the night before. Anything was okay in Japan.

There was a lot of dead time, though, and Johnny didn't speak Japanese, so he ended up watching the monitors. Evan was stretching in the hallway, and there was a camera on him as he paced and listened to his iPod. Johnny knew he had a lot of crazy rituals he had to get through. Another camera showed skaters getting ready to go out. Adam was first in the last group, already standing on the boards talking to Jeremy Ten from Canada. Of course Adam would have known the Canadian skaters, it made sense, but Johnny had never had the nerve to talk to anyone before he skated. He'd been picturing them all catching on fire and screaming in agony while Johnny skated perfectly. He'd told Priscilla that once, and she'd told him he was a psycho and called Patti to tattle.

Something was happening on the monitor; Johnny couldn't hear what was going on, and the Japanese commentators behind him weren't explaining anything, but Jeremy seemed a little panicked, and Adam talked him down, and then the announcer came on and the lights went down and Johnny heard them introduce Adam. He'd become an expert at picking out skaters' names in a million different accents and languages. They didn't expect Johnny to say anything until the replay, so he was free to just watch Adam skate.

Johnny could tell from the first beat of the music that Adam was going to be spectacular. He'd schooled his face to look semi-serious, but he bounced across the ice, flying through his jumps and footwork in a way that made Johnny wince just waching it. Johnny missed the thrill of skating, but he didn't miss hours and hours of agonizing practicing straight line step sequences and spins just for the sake of points. Adam made all that frustrating, stupid, ugly skating look beautiful, and he told a story while he whirled through it. Johnny held his breath just a little on every jump, but Adam landed them all beautifully and smiled like he was glowing from the inside.

The second the music stopped Adam began bouncing up and down on the ice, pumping his fist triumphantly, and Johnny knew that somewhere by the rink Brian Orser was grinning his head off. "That was wonderful," Johnny told the camera as soon as it was trained on him, and then talked for a little bit about Adam's grace on ice and how hard the rippon lutz was. The translator repeated everthing he said at the speed of light, while everyone else nodded and made "Ooooh" noises.

Adam's score came in, and Johnny could see him in the kiss-and-cry, gasping with joy and shock and throwing his arms around Brian's neck. Brian grinned and clapped him on the back, and Adam blew kisses to the camera. He would have had at least one six under the old system. Johnny felt ancient, suddenly, watching Adam try to contain his bouncy joy while waving to the camera and mouthing, 'Hi, mom!'

The translator, a Japanese man in a suit who smoked like a chimney whenever the cameras were off, said, "Johnny, soon is Evan Lysacek. You and he are rivals, isn't it true?"

"Were rivals," said Johnny. He wasn't sure if he meant because he'd retired, or because of what had happened in his hotel. "Evan is a great skater and a great athlete." There, that was neutral enough that anyone could read anything they wanted into it.

The translator nodded. "Do you think he will retire also?"

"I have no idea," said Johnny. "Maybe he wants to skate in Sochi. Evan's always been a mystery to me."

There was a moment of concern over how to translate that back to Japanese, but then everyone nodded and "ohhh"ed some more.

The translator made a bit of a face, trying to figure out his next question in English. "Now that you are retired," he said, "you and Evan can be friendly? Or, you will continue the rivalry?"

Wasn't that the question of the hour. "Our rivalry was always blown all out of proportion. Evan and I have always been friends off the ice, and I'm sure we'll continue to be, whether he retires or not," said Johnny. He knew his mother was going to see that quote and roll her eyes, but he _felt_ like it was true. It should have been true.

The announcer introduced Jeremy Ten, and everyone turned to look at the monitors or the ice again. Johnny had always thought Jeremy's skating was a little dull, and he was surprised Skate Canada was sending him to so many international events this year, but not every country could have the depth of field of the US, or Russia, or France, after all.

Johnny frowned at the monitor closest to him. There was something about Jeremy's face that said things were about to go wrong. Not that Johnny knew a lot about Jeremy and his face, but he did know about skaters who were about to tank. The music started and Jeremy began skating, but on his very first element he fell, and when he got up for his first jump combination he singled the first one and fell on the second. "Damn," Johnny muttered. Jeremy brushed himself off but didn't start skating again; he glided over to the judges table and started a very earnest conversation with a lot of nodding.

The broadcast booth was buzzing with conversation and people texting each other frantically, trying to figure out what had happened. Johnny waited impatiently for someone to say something in English, or at least a Japanese word that sounded like English. The translator saw him and said, "Broken skate."

"Broken how?" Johnny asked. "Laces?" but everyone was busy again.

Jeremy had three minutes to fix his skates, but it was pretty obvious that whatever was wrong was going to need longer than that, and he ended up not skating at all. Johnny needed desperately to get back to where the American skaters were, because someone would know what had happened and be able to tell him in English. Or hell, he could fake it in French if he had to. Instead he was stuck in the booth, smiling politely while the program moved on to the next skater, although all the broadcasters wanted to talk about was Jeremy.

By the time Evan skated they'd forgotten to ask Johnny anything much except how it looked, and Evan looked fine, if a little tired. Johnny felt a tiny bit guilty over that. There were a lot of things that might have made Evan tired, of course, not least among them being a dinosaur age-wise for figure skating. But he'd also spent a decent amount of his training time fretting over Mirai or fighting with Johnny, so.

Johnny considered bringing Evan soup for half a second before he rolled his eyes extravagantly at himself.

Evan placed fourth after the short program, and Adam was in first. It wasn't a bad day of skating at all.

\--

"Did you see? Oh my god, I can barely remember what I did, why don't I remember that skate?" Adam demanded, throwing himself down on the couch in the hotel lobby next to Johnny. Johnny was waiting for Tara, who had arranged some kind of big dinner with people who wanted to talk about his book. Johnny could honestly have used a few hours to just sleep and maybe get his throat back in working order, but he also knew if he had any time to himself he was going to sit there thinking about The Renewed Evan Thing, and that was probably a bad idea.

"You were wonderful," said Johnny, and hugged Adam. Adam was really huggable. He was also vibrating a little bit with excitement, and his eyes were mildly crazed.

"I can't remember, it's a total blank," Adam said. "I stepped out on the ice, and I thought, 'I got this,' and then... And then I was sitting with Brian. I've never gotten that many points on a short program before. Not even at Four Continents."

Johnny nodded. "I can't remember any of my Olympic skates clearly," he said. "Good or bad. It's just adrenaline. You'll go home and watch it a few times and it'll come back to you."

"Do you think Mirai saw?" Adam asked. "I mean. Of course she saw, but do you think she was watching? What am I saying, she had her own skate to worry about, she wasn't watching. Do you think someone told her? Do you think I can tell her? Do you think—"

Johnny grabbed Adam's arm before he could bounce back to his feet and presumably go running to knock down Mirai's hotel room door. "Relax," said Johnny. "She saw. You were fantastic."

Adam sighed a little. "She was great, wasn't she? Her skate was awesome. I think she was underscored; she shouldn't be second, she should be first."

"You are adorable, but you're also blinded by puppy love," said Johnny. "She didn't get the full rotation on that axel."

"Johnnnnny," Adam chided him. "That's not the point."

Johnny patted him politely on the head and went back to his phone, because Tara should have texted him by now, damn it.

Adam perked up suddenly from his slump on the couch. "Did something happen?"

"Yes, you placed first, congrats," said Johnny.

Adam poked him in the side. "No, stupid, with you and Evan."

"Of course not," said Johnny, not looking up.

Adam gasped. "Oh my _god_ , it did! I saw him vanish at lunch but I didn't think you two—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, which had the hilarious effect of making it that much more obvious he was telling secrets. Johnny was _sure_ he'd been a lot more circumspect at twenty-one. "You two hooked up, didn't you?"

"No," said Johnny shortly. That was absolutely technically true, because 'hooking up' in Johnny's book wasn't just dirty kissing.

"You did! You did, you did!" Adam cheered. They were getting a lot of stares. "I mean," he said, a little more quietly, "you did, I can tell."

"We didn't," Johnny repeated. He looked up at Adam, who was grinning at him like this was a great thing, instead of probably evidence that Johnny had a brain tumor that kept him from making sensible decisions about Evan Lysacek.

" _Something_ happened," said Adam certainly. "You're trying not to blush."

Johnny glared at him. "Would you please stop trying to be Nancy Drew? There was no hooking up."

Adam waggled a finger at him. "I'm on to your verbal tricks, Johnny. Let me guess. It wasn't 'hooking up' because you just had sex, no talking or kissing or anything. Right?"

Johnny was honestly horrified. "What? Oh my god, why would you think—"

"Because you look at him like you want to shove him over the nearest flat surface and tear his clothes off," said Adam bluntly. "You should _see_ yourself."

Johnny clapped his hand over Adam's mouth. "Never say that again. Ever. To anyone. I do _not_ —" Adam nodded furiously "and even if I did, he doesn't —" Adam snorted "— and we didn't do that!" He realized as soon as he'd said it that he was admitting they'd done something. Adam's eyes were sparkling with suppressed delight and teasing. "Fine," Johnny hissed. "He came over and we... Anyway, we didn't hook up, we just talked. He kissed me, fine. If you say anything to anyone no one will ever, ever find your body." He moved his hand.

Adam sat there, beaming at him, trying not to bounce too much.

"Go ahead and say it," Johnny sighed.

"I knew it!" Adam crowed. "I was totally right, wait until I tell Mirai!" He caught Johnny's murderous glare and corrected himself quickly, "I mean. Wait until I totally don't tell Mirai at all? Oh, there she is!" He shot off the couch and ran over to the door, grinning at Mirai who was coming in with Frank.

Johnny watched them carefully, because if Adam told anyone Johnny really would have to do terrible things to him. He was sure he could get Yu-na to help him.

Adam waved at Mirai, but she was looking at her shoes, and... Oh, this wasn't good. Johnny sat up, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. Frank had one hand on Mirai's shoulder, looking grim and bloodless as usual. Mirai said something, and Adam went kind of pale, and then Mirai said something else, shaking her head and still looking at the floor, and then she fled to the elevators, obviously crying. Frank scowled threateningly at Adam, who fell back a step, and then Frank followed Mirai out of the lobby.

Johnny stood up. He felt absolutely ill. He was sure he'd just seen Adam get dumped, but he couldn't imagine why, and he felt spectacularly guilty about it. He hadn't taken the whole process very seriously, because he'd assumed it would all work out as fate decreed — adorable sweethearts should be adorable together — but clearly he should have.

Evan walked through the automatic doors looking grim. Johnny considered, just for a second, flagging him down and making him explain what had happened, but they were in public. It wasn't a good idea. Evan gave Adam a long, cold stare, and walked over to the elevators.

"Hey," said Johnny, frowning after Evan. "What happened?" He put a hand on Adam's shoulder, hopefully in a comforting manner.

"She said she doesn't want to see me again." Adam sounded shell-shocked. He looked up at Johnny, all big-eyes threatening to fill up with tears and a mildly trembling lower lip, and that _wasn't fair_ , no one on earth could have withstood that. "Like, _ever_."

"Did she say why?" Johnny asked.

Adam shook his head, biting his lip. "Just that she can't, and she's sorry. That she never should have..." His voice broke a little.

Awww, hell. Johnny hugged him, wondering what in hell could have happened. Obviously it was Frank, and his nefarious, miserable plans. He was probably upset that Adam had placed above Evan. Johnny was going to eviscerate Frank, slowly. Evan would thank him for it later.

"I don't know what I did," Adam said, voice tiny.

"I'm sure you didn't do anything," said Johnny firmly. "Don't worry about it. I'll fix this." Adam nodded against his shoulder. "Don't freak out, okay? Brian will be really upset if you let this screw up your free skate tomorrow." Johnny patted Adam's back until it sounded like Adam was breathing a little more regularly. Adam was getting Johnny's shoulder kind of wet, but Johnny wasn't a big enough dick to say anything about it.

"I'm okay," said Adam weakly. "It's probably just a misunderstanding."

"I'm sure," Johnny agreed. He gave Adam a tiny shake. "I'm going to go clear this all up. Don't worry about it. Go get a hug from Brian, it'll be fine."

"Okay," said Adam. He sounded doubtful, but he was underestimating just how determined Johnny was.

\--

Johnny knocked on Evan's door, but it was a perfunctory thing, like pretending he cared if anyone was naked in the changing room before he walked in. "What the hell is wrong with Frank?" he demanded, shoving the door open.

Evan looked up from where he was drinking some horrible protein shake thing. "I don't know?" he said, like Johnny had confused him.

Of course Johnny had confused him. Johnny slammed the door and put his hands on his hips. "He just forced Mirai to stomp all over the tiny, fragile pieces of Adam's heart. It was like watching a puppy in a car crash. If he's bitter about where Adam placed I'm sorry, but Adam skated better than you did." It occurred to Johnny belatedly that he didn't sound especially sorry, and that he might not be winning Evan over to his side very effectively. "You were good and all, too," Johnny said, waving his hand a little.

"Oh," said Evan, putting his shake down. He twisted his mouth around like he had something really sour to say. "The thing is," Evan started, and then stopped.

"Mirai was crying, Adam was crying, it was a hot mess," Johnny went on. He enjoyed ranting; it made him feel less like he might explode. "Tell Frank that it's not good for Mirai's skating. Hell, I'll tell him. Which room is he in? I'll kick the door down. I've been wanting to give him a piece of my mind—"

"Johnny," said Evan, and then he paused. He looked really grave, which was weird, because normally he was a big goofy weirdo except when he was hyper-focused on skating. Evan grabbed Johnny's hand and then sat down on the arm of his hotel room couch, tugging Johnny over to stand between his legs. They were almost the same height like that.

Johnny wasn't done ranting. "I'm not going to let you distract me," he said firmly. "Frank is awful, he's destroying people because of his own miserable bitterness. You two need to switch coaches. Well, there's probably no point for you, now, but Mirai needs someone who wants her to be happy, not a robot."

Evan didn't say anything, he just pulled Johnny down into a kiss. Johnny resisted for a second, spine stiff, because he _wasn't done talking_ , but it was nice to lean against Evan and think about all the ways the two of them could destroy Frank. Evan looped his arms around Johnny's waist, and Johnny put his arm around Evan's neck, leaning a little bit. Evan really was a much better kisser than he had been when they were kids. And this time he didn't seem rushed and desperate, he was being slow and careful and it made Johnny shiver all over.

"The thing is," said Evan quietly, resting his forehead against Johnny's. "It wasn't Frank who told Mirai she needed to stop seeing Adam. It was me."

Johnny jerked away from him, but Evan's hands were holding his hips. "What?" Johnny demanded.

Evan looked grimly, tragically determined. "He's not good for her," Evan said.

"He's not — Let _go_ of me, stop touching me!" Johnny snapped, shoving at Evan.

"She's only seventeen, and I'm not going to let bad things, or bad people, happen to her," Evan said.

Johnny stepped back, and then back again. It was like realizing who the killer was in a horror movie; he was reeling and dizzy and so angry he could barely breathe. "What would you know about which people are bad?" he demanded. "What do you know about _anything_?"

Evan looked resigned. He'd known Johnny would flip out. He hadn't cared at all about what his sheer, utter idiocy was going to do to their nascent détente. "I know Mirai is like a sister to me," said Evan quietly. "You'd do the same thing."

"I wouldn't," Johnny said furiously. His eyes were starting to sting. "I would _never_."

Evan started to say something else, but Johnny was done. He was really, _really_ done. He turned on his heel and almost ran out, slamming Evan's door so hard it bounced a little on its hinges.

\--

Tara texted him, but by then Johnny was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and lying on his hotel bed with the pillow over his face. His phone beeped and he looked at it for half a second, texted back, _feeling awful, can't do it_ and then turned his phone off for the night.

\--

"You had better be _dead_ ," Tara said the next morning, and hit him with her purse.

Johnny felt dead. Or mostly dead. His throat hurt, his head was killing him, and his whole body ached. "I have a fever," he moaned. He didn't think it was particularly convincing, as moans went, but Tara looked at him for a second and then nodded.

"We're going home tomorrow. You look like you need your mom." Tara was trying to hustle him out of the hotel room and to the rink, but Johnny was doing his damndest to be late, because he really, really didn't want to go.

"I do," Johnny said. "I really, really do." He didn't move.

"You look awful," she said bluntly. "You know you're going to be on camera, right?"

Johnny was lying on the bed, and he curled up a little. "I'm going to die," he said. He coughed a couple of times, for effect, although his throat didn't hurt like that.

There was a long minute of waiting. "So, there's a rumor going around that you and Evan—" Tara started.

"Lies," said Johnny immediately. "Vicious, filthy, nasty lies. I hate him, and I hope he falls on his face and breaks his fucking neck."

"Yesterday he was a great skater and a great athlete!"

"He looks like an ostrich and he skates like a walrus," said Johnny. "All the judges should be required to get their eyes checked. He's also a miserable, horrible human being."

Tara pulled the blanket away so that Johnny couldn't hide under it. He kicked at her half-heartedly. "You really do have to get up," she said. "I'll get you some lozenges."

"I hate you, too," said Johnny.

"Twenty-four hours and you're on a plane home," said Tara. "Whatever Evan did, you can deal with for twenty-four hours."

"I'm dying, and all you care about is television," said Johnny, fake-coughing again. His throat was stuffed with razors and sandpaper and his head was throbbing.

Tara tugged on his leg. "Get up. Look, you have soup here, I can heat that up for you and you'll feel better."

It was like being punched in the stomach. "No," said Johnny. "I don't want that, I — I hate soup. I'll get up, give me a second."

Tara waited with her arms crossed and her mouth kind of pinched. She put her hand on his forehead and made a humming, unhappy noise. "You actually might have a fever," she said, sounding surprised.

"I know," said Johnny crossly. He took an incredibly long time getting dressed, even though he really just needed a jacket and a scarf. He wished he were the kind of person who slumped around in hoodies, briefly, before he shuddered at the thought. "I'll go and do this, but you have to see if you can get us an earlier flight home."

"I'll try," said Tara, "but I wouldn't hold my breath, babe. Are you good to go?"

"Sure," said Johnny. "Why not?"

\--

The worst part was he had to say something to Adam. Adam was in the locker room sitting with his head down, while Brian gave him what was undoubtedly a pep talk, and it made Johnny feel so guilty he wanted to throw up. Johnny actually had to make himself take a deep breath to get his nerve up to go over and say, "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," said Adam to the floor. "I told you it was stupid."

Brian Orser, who was seriously one of the nicest people Johnny had ever met, was giving him a look like he was going to feed Johnny to ravenous dogs just as soon as there were no witnesses left.

"It wasn't stupid, it was... Unfortunate," said Johnny. "And you didn't do anything, okay? I talked to them, and I promise, it wasn't you."

Adam just shrugged. Brian ramped the death glare up a few notches. Johnny wasn't stupid enough to stick around after that, so he patted Adam a little awkwardly on the shoulder and fled back to Tara.

"I keep warning you about taking other people down with you during these schemes of yours," Tara said out of the side of her mouth.

"In my defense—" Johnny started.

"It should worry you how many times you have to say that to me," said Tara, and she was right, so Johnny decided not to bother. He wasn't really feeling up to it anyway. He hoped viciously that he'd given Evan the flu and Evan was going to be too sick to skate. That would serve him right. That, and to fall on every jump. And maybe an STD, the itchy kind.

Interviewing and commentating was a nightmare. Johnny couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't wishing plagues of locust and the slaying of the firstborn upon Evan's head. Evan skated fine, actually, and he would probably medal, but Johnny was so angry that what came out of his mouth was, "Ugh, clumsy and ugly again. Maybe if he worked on being graceful like he works on tanning the skating community could take him seriously this year," and when that got translated there was a lot of hushed murmurs and staring. Tara rolled her eyes so hard it had to hurt.

Adam's skate was a disaster. No, it was just a mess, but it hurt Johnny to watch him step out on both axels _and_ have to catch himself with his hand on the ice in a perfectly normal toe loop. Adam looked exhausted, and Brian was clutching his hands together so hard his knuckles were white on the monitor.

"Do you think long programs are become problem for Adam Rippon?" asked the translator.

Johnny winced. "I think Adam's just having an off day," he said. "I'm sure he'll rally." Someone brought him tea — one of the best parts of Japan was he could always get hot tea in the winter and cold tea in the summer — and he sipped it and held his breath waiting for Adam's score. He had a cushion, but it wouldn't be enough to keep him afloat if someone else had a magical skate.

Evan ended up with silver, and Adam with bronze, both behind Nobunari Oda. Tara took the cute teacup out of Johnny's hand with a meaningful look, but he hadn't been going to throw it or anything dramatic like that. He didn't feel well enough for giant, dramatic gestures.

"I guess that just goes to show you the judges don't reward good skaters anymore," said Johnny.

"You mean," said the translator, frowning, "Evan's score is too high? Or Adam's score is too low?"

Johnny just smirked behind his teacup and let them translate it however they wanted.

\--

Tara got them on a slightly earlier flight, thank god. Johnny took all the cold medication he could find to knock himself out and spent the whole flight half-asleep, almost-dreaming about Evan. They weren't good dreams, they were confused and angry and faded in and out of different arguments they'd had had across all the years they'd known each other. Tara shook him awake when they got to New York and Patti drove them both home, fussing over how miserably sick Johnny looked.

She gave him a couple of Advil and a bottle of ginger ale, and a cold cloth for his forehead. She even let him curl up under the blankets and not tell her anything about what had happened. His mother had never been stupid, though. Johnny had never gotten away with anything, although sometimes she just didn't say anything and he could pretend. It didn't mean she wasn't curious, or she wouldn't figure it out.

In the morning he felt even worse; it was like the cold was driving a zamboni that had knocked him over and then flattened him on the ice. He ached everywhere and he was never getting out of bed again. Patti didn't say anything, she just brought him more drugs and rubbed his temples. She made soup which he refused to touch, and she quirked an eyebrow at him but let it go.

The second day, though, she pulled the blankets back and announced, "Time's up. Up and at them, Atom Ant."

"I feel really, really bad," Johnny protested, but he didn't anymore, and she clearly knew just by looking. He grumbled but he got up and showered and acted like a human being again.

Patti was sipping coffee at the kitchen island. "You don't have to tell me anything," she said. "But is there anyone currently competing and based in L.A. that I need to put a hit out on?"

"Yes," said Johnny. "Absolutely."

"So something happened?"

"No," Johnny backpedaled immediately.

Patti didn't say anything, she just sipped more coffee.

"I am not that stupid, I wouldn't let him do that to me twice," Johnny protested.

"You're not stupid at all," Patti agreed.

"I'm just mad at him, is all," said Johnny. "He ruined something really good with Adam, and it's not fair."

Patti looked a little surprised at that. "You and Adam?"

"Mom! No. Adam and Mirai. And it's just Evan judging people again. He always thinks he knows what's best for everyone. Who is Evan to decide who's good enough and who's not? Why does he always think it's more important how things look than how they really are? Why can't he let people try things, why can't he—" Johnny broke off ranting, because Patti was giving him that look again.

"Honey," she said. She patted his hand. "I was there for the first round of this, you don't have to explain."

"It's not about me, it's about Adam! He broke Adam's heart, and Adam didn't do anything to deserve any of this!" Johnny exploded.

"I believe you," said Patti. Johnny felt about a million times better. "But sweetheart," she added, and his heart sank. "I would never take sides, and you know if I could have taken a bat to his kneecap that summer I would have. But—"

"Mama, don't," Johnny groaned.

"Evan _might have had_ reasons," Patti said firmly. "Maybe they were stupid or unfair, but what if he had them? And you didn't listen to him when he wanted to talk about all the things he was worried about."

"If he liked me he wouldn't care about—" Patti glared him down. Johnny stopped and picked at imaginary threads on the cuff of his sweater. "Fine," he said. "Go on."

She nodded. "You are so impulsive, honey. And Evan's not. You throw yourself into things, and sometimes you don't think about how other people feel. Do you know why he decided to do whatever he did to Adam?"

Johnny wondered if she thought he was making the Adam thing up. Her tone sort of implied it. "Because he's an asshole," said Johnny nastily.

"Okay," said Patti. She put her hands up, surrendering. "I'll call the mob to take care of him."

"I'm not being unreasonable," Johnny grumbled. She made him feel like a petulant five year old, and sure he _acted_ like a petulant five year old sometimes, but it was on his own terms. Not hers. Not Evan's.

Patti offered him a mug of tea. "Are you feeling better? You have things to do, and Tara can only cancel so many events before the Angels start to worry."

"I'm better, it's fine," Johnny said. He waved his hand. "One-hundred percent fixed. I'll never bring it up again."

She nodded in a way that meant she definitely didn't believe a word he was saying.

\--

After Patti left Johnny spent a couple of deeply satisfying days doing things like cleaning the rubber in the fridge door and the inside of the windowsill. And then, when he felt a little more human, he went back to doing all the things Tara had booked for him. Some weeks he was insanely busy, and had no time to brood and feel guilty. Other weeks he was a lot less busy, and he did things like price tickets to Tibet, or look up the admission requirements to the Sorbonne. He could totally get his French good enough to go study art for a few years in Paris. He could stay on Joubert's couch.

Johnny spent a little time getting drunk with Paris in New York, but that turned out to be dangerous, because someone had told Paris about the clusterfuck that had happened in Nagoya.

"I heard you and Evan were a _thing_ ," said Paris. "That calls for at least one more round of martinis. _At least._ "

"Heard from whom?" Johnny asked irritably. "We weren't a thing. We were never a thing. There was no 'thing'."

Paris gave him a serious _Girl, please_ look. "That's not what I heard."

"You shouldn't be hearing anything!" Johnny said. Paris swapped the empty glass in Johnny's hand for a fresh martini, which was neon green for some reason. "A, because it's none of your business, and B, because there is nothing to hear."

"So he didn't make a lunch-time booty call?" Paris asked, arching an eyebrow. Johnny must have looked murderous, because Paris shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I _heard_ ," he said. "Whatever, it's obviously not true. You wouldn't have let him in to your hotel room. Right?"

"Of course not," lied Johnny easily. The bright green martini wasn't bad, actually.

Paris pointed across the bar. "That guy has been checking you out all night. Are you into it? Because if you are, that's cool, you obviously need revenge sex. But if you're not it's been a really long time since I got ravished."

"It's been, like, a week since you got ravished," Johnny said

Paris stared owlishly at him. "So has Evan Lysacek turned you off dick for life or not?"

"Go ahead," Johnny scowled. "I hope you get pregnant."

Paris put his hand on his stomach and moaned a little. "I couldn't sacrifice this figure," he said. He vanished through the crowd, and Johnny thought for the four millionth time that he needed a new best friend.

\--

"I am flying into New York," said Stéphane on the phone. "And you will meet me there!"

He never asked or anything, Johnny thought, just a tiny bit irritably. He just assumed it would work out, and then it did. It was really annoying. "Which airport?" Johnny asked.

"JFK. It is very exciting, is it not? I will be a tourist in New York and do many things! I will take photographs and see Broadway and perhaps a cab driver will be rude to me. I can not wait."

"I can be rude to you when I pick you up," said Johnny generously.

"Ah, but my friend. I would prefer you not to drive me anywhere. It is not that I do not love you, it is that I have seen you drive before."

"I'm a perfectly good driver!"

"I am too young and beautiful to die," Stéphane said sadly.

Johnny hung up on him.

\--

Stéphane arrived with boxes and boxes of Swiss chocolate. Johnny could feel his thighs inflating just looking at them. "Why are you doing this?" he asked suspiciously. "Are we taking pictures later? Is this some kind of preemptive strike?"

"You must learn to trust me, Johnny," said Stéphane, and hugged him. It was a totally inappropriate hug for an airport; Stéphane threw his arms around Johnny and squeezed, nuzzling his nose against Johnny's neck while Johnny squirmed and tried not to scream. It tickled. Stéphane was getting his neck kind of wet with his heavy breathing.

"Fine, I trust you, _let go_ ," said Johnny, shoving ineffectually at Stéphane's arms.

Stéphane beamed at him. "Excellent! You will see, I have many plans for us!" He kissed Johnny on the cheek with a loud, wet smack.

"What is it with people and _touching_ me?" Johnny groused. As punishment, he wasn't going to help Stéphane with his suitcases.

"You look as if you need a hug," said Stéphane seriously. "Has someone else been hugging you lately? Ah, I can see from your face that he has, but it has been unsatisfactory. That is why you have me!"

"You don't see anything on my face," Johnny retorted, but his cheeks were heating up. If people were talking about him and Evan were they talking about that night at the rink? Jesus god, did everyone in skating know that Evan had hugged Johnny while yelling his head off about forgiveness? Johnny was going to find Evan and kill him twice.

"Certainly, your face is blank; you are inscrutable like a geisha," said Stéphane, which was probably meant to be comforting. "Take me to your house where we may drink champagne and eat chocolate, for we are retired, my friend." He clapped Johnny on the back. "There will be much hugging!"

Johnny bit back a mean retort, because when it came down to it, Stéphane gave really good shoulder rubs.

\--

Stéphane had luggage everywhere, and Johnny was itching to put it away so he'd have clean surfaces in his apartment again. He didn't remember agreeing to letting Stéphane stay with him, but that was the magic of Stéphane.

"This box of chocolate is to express my joy at seeing you," said Stéphane. "And this box is for your mother, the most beautiful woman in New Jersey."

"She doesn't live in Jersey," Johnny pointed out.

"But _this_ box," said Stéphane, pulling out a truly enormous gold-foil wrapped box, covered in fancy paper rosettes and sparkling confetti bits, "this is for broken hearts."

Johnny crossed his arms. "No one here needs that box, then."

Stéphane gave him his patented big-eyed sad stare. "Oh, my friend," he said. "Truly? Because I am Swiss, and we know the look of heartbreak."

"I don't think anyone says that about the Swiss," said Johnny snappishly.

"They say it of me," Stéphane said confidently. "I am like a bloodhound of heartbreak, I can sense your sadness all the way from Europe. I have the sixth sense."

Johnny was too tired to keep being grumpy at Stéphane. "I'm not sad."

"This is not the story I see written on your face," said Stéphane. Johnny stared at the couch and wished there were something dusty around so he could go and clean it. "Also, Brian Orser called me to tell me he was worried you were having a nervous breakdown," Stéphane added.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Why is everyone so fucking concerned about who I'm fucking?" Johnny demanded.

Stéphane waggled his eyebrows at him. "So you are fucking someone?"

"No! If Brian sent you here to interrogate me—"

"Brian merely thought that I, as your friend, would wish to know of your sorrow," said Stéphane. He held out his arms. "Shall we hug?"

"No, we shall not— Stéphane, watch where your hands are. We have laws in America about sexual harassment."

"Ah, but this is not sexual," said Stéphane, snuffling into Johnny's neck again. "This is my pure, chaste love for you as a brother."

"I have a brother, and he respects my wishes about being hugged all the time." Johnny sighed a little and resigned himself to being hugged a lot. Having Stéphane around was like having a big, clinging, heavy sweater that couldn't be taken off. It was nice, though. At least there was chocolate.

Stéphane gave Johnny another of his mournful looks. "Do you not wish to confide in me? I am a bastion of secrecy, I assure you."

"I do _not_ wish to confide in you," Johnny agreed. Stéphane let his lower lip tremble. Johnny knew perfectly well he was being manipulated, but fuck, it was really hard to have that staring at him. "Tell me what you heard happened."

"I heard many things," said Stéphane. "I think you will be intrigued by the things I have heard. But first, you must confirm for me this. You and Evan..."

Johnny had slept with Stéphane before he realized that Stéphane really just wanted someone to cuddle with, and although it had been pretty great it had created a weird situation where Stéphane could read all of Johnny's tells. Johnny didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Stéphane said, "Aha!" and hugged him again. Johnny had never been able to get to sleep when he was sharing a bed with Stéphane — Stéphane tossed and turned and Johnny kept himself awake, thinking — but he wished suddenly that they could have stayed in bed and just cuddled forever.

"It wasn't like that," Johnny said. "I'm not quite as stupid as I was when I was twenty. I think he wanted it to be something, but it wasn't."

"Evan has always wanted it to be something with you," Stéphane agreed. "But you are like a porcupine, and he is like a stupid puppy."

Johnny said, "Yes, _exactly_."

"Only I know your quills are all for pretend!" Stéphane added gleefully. "Really you are the hedgehog. You look spikey, but you are a little ball of adorableness."

"I am _not_ a hedgehog!"

"With a cute little nose," Stéphane said certainly, and rubbed his nose against Johnny's. Johnny made a disgusted noise and turned his face away. "So you and Evan, you did not fuck? It is a shame, your babies would be so beautiful," said Stéphane thoughtfully.

Johnny wiggled a little further away on the couch. "You're insane."

"Do you hate each other now, or you love each other? I get whiplash watching you."

"Hate," said Johnny firmly. "He fucked up everything with Adam and Mirai."

"Ah!" said Stéphane holding up one finger triumphantly. "Of this also I hear news. They are adorable and in love, yes? But Evan convinced Mirai that Adam was a terrible choice, and everything was ruined."

"Yes, exactly. Evan is awful, and everyone should know it."

"But you did not hear? Evan was only repeating the rumor that everyone knows about Adam!"

Johnny pushed Stéphane away for real. "A rumor about _Adam_? You really are insane. It had better not be a sex tape. That is the most ludicrous—"

"No! It regards Jeremy Ten." Stéphane waggled his eyebrows mysteriously. "You really have not heard? I think every skater I know has called me to discuss these underhanded doings."

Sometimes Johnny regretted deliberately cutting himself off from most of the rest of the bitches of the skating world. He was missing all the really decent gossip. "If it's underhanded then Adam had nothing to do with it," said Johnny. "Knock it off."

"He was seen with Jeremy's skate before it fell apart at NHK," said Stéphane. "And the skate wasn't merely a broken lace, it was sabotage. The boot had been cut, the lace was missing, the blade was dull. It was Nancy Kerrigan again, but subtle this time."

Johnny just stared at him. "But why would Adam do that? He's a billion times better than Jeremy."

Stéphane shrugged elegantly. "Nerves? Anyway, there are pictures of Adam and Jeremy's bag, and everyone has heard from someone who has heard from someone else that Adam and Jeremy were rivals for Mirai's affection."

"That's ludicrous," Johnny protested.

"Most things in skating are, I find," Stéphane agreed. "But clearly Evan did not find it so, and he would not have Mirai around a cheater or a saboteur."

Johnny considered the idea, for just a second, that Adam might have sabotaged another skater. Was it even remotely possible? Johnny had been tempted to sabotage Evan more than once, but he had never done it. And Adam wasn't the revenge type. Was Jeremy any kind of rival for Mirai? Johnny had barely seen him around all week, and definitely not talking to her. "No," he said. "I spent the week hanging out with Adam. He didn't do it."

"Of course he did not, but it is a more interesting story with a villain," said Stéphane. "No doubt there will be an inquiry and the true mastermind will be revealed, but in the meantime, Evan took drastic action." He sighed happily. "It is like a romance novel."

"A romance novel that ended with broken hearts all around," Johnny complained. "It's not fair. How could Evan possibly have thought Adam would ever have done that?"

"In his place, would you not have protected the one you love?" asked Stéphane. "Just in case?"

It was a pretty innocent question, but it made Johnny's eyes start stinging. "Not if it meant hurting someone else," he said. "Evan always gets that wrong."

"Ah, it is time for more cuddles," said Stéphane, curling up around Johnny. "We have chocolate and wine and I will hug you until you feel better. It _is_ going to be better."

Johnny mumbled, "I don't want your stupid hugs," and let Stéphane cuddle him anyway.  


\---

  
"We spent most of our lives being very, very serious, very hard working," said Stéphane. "But now we are free to do as we would like."

Apparently what that meant for Stéphane was shopping in horrible touristy stores in the city. He insisted on trying on a hat shaped like the Statue of Liberty and then looking seriously in the mirror to adjust his scarf. Johnny was wearing a pair of bright pink heart-shaped sunglasses with "I ♥ NY" across the nose.

"I have never actually been that serious and hard working," Johnny confessed, making kissy-faces at his reflection.

"Those go well with your bag," said Stéphane.

Johnny put a hand on his hip and posed. "When I start my fashion line all the models can wear these," he said.

"But you require a hat!" Stéphane grabbed something suitably horrible; a baseball cap with New York City faux-spraypainted across it in neon green and orange.

Johnny put it on and turned the brim rakishly to the side. "Hot."

"I wish to buy a snowglobe," said Stéphane. "To commemorate this trip always. Also." He pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture of Johnny posing. "This can go on my fashion website. The trendiest New York fashions, as modeled by Johnny Weir."

"I am very in demand," agreed Johnny. He pulled Stéphane and his Statue of Liberty hat over so he could snap them both together on his cell phone. "If I could figure out how to do twitter pictures I would put that up."

Stéphane rolled his eyes. "Even Evgeni can do them. Ask Adam or Evan for help."

"I wouldn't ask Evan for help if I were on fire," said Johnny. He put his ugly hat back on the shelf and rolled his eyes at some tourists from the midwest who weren't appreciating the store with enough irony for his taste. "Now, if I could figure out a way to set him on fire..."

"Are you going to your Nationals?" asked Stéphane. "There is going to be some kind of very important banquet."

"I'm never invited to that shit." Johnny briefly considered a giant necklace with the Yankees logo on it, before settling on an excellently sparkly silver tiara that said New York Princess. It went _perfectly_ with his sunglasses. Stéphane snapped another picture. "I might do press stuff."

"Some important official is retiring, and there will be new rules announced, and I think you will be invited this year," said Stéphane. "It is a very big deal, I have heard."

"Who's retiring?" Johnny asked. "I hate those banquets. I have to wear a tuxedo."

Stéphane flicked Johnny's tiara lightly. "You are retired now. You do not have to do anything you don't wish."

That made Johnny feel oddly better. He bought the New York tiara and a snowglobe as a present for Stéphane.

\--

Johnny was in fact invited to the Nationals banquet, which was doubling as some kind of Old Home Days celebration of a lot of old skaters Johnny hated anyway. His initial instinct was to tell them to go to hell, but then Stéphane pointed out that they probably wanted that, so Johnny decided he needed to go and wear something that would make Stojko and Hamilton shit themselves. "It's the small pleasures that keep me going," Johnny said, trying on a fantastic pair of Louboutin heels.

"Can you truly walk in those?" asked Stéphane doubtfully.

"I can walk in _anything_ ," said Johnny. The shoes made his ass look amazing, but they were probably a little much for a formal dinner. Unless he wore them with a really conservative black dress, and he'd promised his mom no more heart attacks this year. Which probably meant pants, damn it.

"I will be very sad to leave before I see this," said Stéphane. "You do not want that scarf. The color washes you out, you look ill."

Johnny stuck out his lower lip and posed poutily in the mirror, but Stéphane was right. Also, he was beginning to look a little tired of going from boutique to boutique with Johnny. "I need something with glitter and sparkles and maybe a tutu," said Johnny. "I want to see how many of them I can make storm away in disgust without even speaking to me."

"Your goals are not like other people's goals," said Stéphane sagely. Johnny shrugged, because it was true.

\--

Johnny had hated formal banquets forever, unless they were the kind where he and Tanith and Miki got kind of drunk and hung all over each other after most of the officials had left. This wasn't that kind of banquet, though; it was painfully stiff and everyone was wearing suits and it was boring. Johnny hadn't slept well on the lead-up to the banquet, and he was tired and grumpy.

"I see the look on your face," Patti said. "Whatever you're thinking, no." She was wearing a blue mother-of-the-bride type of incredibly staid dress, the better, she said, to balance out his shiny skin-tight bedazzled black jeans and white jacket with ruffles all over.

"I might be planning something amazing," Johnny said.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. "It's the same look you had when I caught you trying to sneak a rat into Evan's gym bag at junior worlds," she said. "Johnny. No."

"I didn't want it to _bite him_ or anything, I just wanted it to take a crap in his skates," Johnny whined, but he crossed his arms and slumped poutily in his chair.

Patti smacked his shoulder. "Sit up and smile," she said. "There are going to be billions of pictures from tonight."

"It would be a way better party if I replaced this muzak crap with my iPod," Johnny grumbled, but he sat up and fixed his hair and smiled graciously at all the skating officials who were studiously ignoring him. He did prefer to look amazing in photographs. It was better for his ego.

"Get me some water," said Patti, prodding him.

"I should have brought Stéphane as my date," Johnny complained, even though Stéphane had flown home already. "He wouldn't have made me fetch and carry."

"After all the trouble I went through giving birth to you—"

"I'm going! Jeez, I'm going." Johnny had actually inherited quite a lot of his drama queen tendencies, not that anyone ever believed him when he said it. The waiters were being terrible, so Johnny grabbed both of their glasses and headed back to the banquet table, where the cold, greasy food was growing less appetizing by the minute.

It was actually a little problematic, trying to figure out how to pour water with both hands full, and Johnny spent a minute staring at the water pitchers before he decided he'd have to balance one glass in the crook of his elbow and pour very carefully. "'Skating Bad-Boy Johnny Weir Ruins Banquet By Spilling Water Fucking Everywhere,'" he grumbled to himself, imagining the headline.

"Here, let me." Evan appeared out of fucking nowhere, grabbing the second glass out Johnny's hand, and then the water pitcher.

"I'm not speaking to you," said Johnny coldly.

Evan shrugged with one shoulder. "And what else is new?" He poured water into both glasses.

"No, but I'm really, _really_ not speaking to you," said Johnny, clenching his teeth. "Can I have that back, please?"

Evan hesitated. "Can we talk?"

"No." Johnny tapped his foot impatiently.

Evan considered the glass and shrugged again. "Fine," he said. "Here, take it. I—"

Johnny snatched the glass and turned on his heel, stomping away before Evan could finish his sentence. He was incensed that Evan thought they had anything to talk about. Or that Johnny was ever going to speak to him again voluntarily. He nearly ran a couple of people over in his angry stomp back to the table.

His mother was talking to Adam, who looked awkward and even younger somehow in a tuxedo. "Are you even speaking to me?" Johnny asked apologetically.

Adam smiled and shrugged a little. "I'm not mad at you," he said. "I'm not mad at anyone. It's weird, but y'know. It's life. Brian's given me about a thousand lectures on picking myself up from disappointment and moving on."

"Sometimes you have to fall," said Patti.

Adam sighed. "It just sucks. Did you hear that crazy rumor about me? Brian says he'd sue if he could figure out who to sue. I hope I'm not in trouble."

"You didn't do anything," said Johnny. "You'll be fine."

"I feel like everyone's looking at me, though," Adam said.

"Then don't talk to me," said Johnny wryly. "You should stay as far away as possible if you want to avoid trouble." He pointedly didn't look over to the table with most of the officials, who had been pretending he wasn't there all night.

"Fuck them," said Adam fiercely.

Johnny appreciated how much Adam looked like an especially angry kitten. "You're sweet," he said. "But just because I decided to tell them all to go to hell doesn't mean it was a great decision." Patti gave him a a very pointed look, which he chose to ignore. "Any idea when they're going to look into the Jeremy Ten Incident?"

"Soon," said Adam. "They said they already were. I mean, if they thought I'd done something they would have called me in to talk, right? Or taken me out of Nationals?" He sounded worried.

"You _didn't_ do anything," Johnny repeated. "It doesn't matter. Got it?"

"Got it," said Adam, a little glumly.

"Think about it this way," said Johnny. "Now you have a dangerous, sexy reputation."

Adam brightened and then sighed again. "It still doesn't do me any good with Mirai," he said. "I don't think she's in to bad boys."

"We'll find a way to fix it," said Johnny, thinking about all the creative ways he could hurt Evan. Adam might not have been a saboteur, but Johnny wasn't above a little creative revenge.

Patti smacked his hand. "No," she said.

"You don't even know what I was thinking!" Johnny protested.

"I appreciate whatever it is," laughed Adam, "but please don't go to jail on my behalf."

"They can't arrest me if they don't catch me," said Johnny. Patti smacked him again.

\--

Johnny answered the door in a hotel robe because he figured it was probably his mother. So of course it was Evan. Evan took one long look at him — mostly naked, wet hair, no makeup — and smirked a little. Johnny seriously considered slamming the door in Evan's face.

"I actually do want to talk to you," Evan said.

"I actually don't want to talk to you." Johnny didn't care about what Evan thought of him, but Evan wasn't doing a very good job at pretending not to check Johnny out. Johnny cocked his hip a little out of reflex. "I'm tired and I'm pissed at you."

"Will it help if I tell you I'm here to apologize?"

Johnny blinked. "Are you?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Evan. "So. Can I come in?"

Johnny stepped aside wordlessly. Far be it from him to stop Evan from grovelling, especially when grovelling was especially deserved. He pulled his robe closed around his neck with one hand and shut the door, sitting on the bed and waiting for Evan to stop pacing and start apologizing.

"The federation is going to announce tomorrow that there's been an inquiry into the thing with Jeremy Ten's skate. I heard them talking about it yesterday."

"It's sweet how they keep their lapdog up to date," said Johnny.

Evan frowned at him. "Anyway, apparently it was someone else in the Canadian federation who fucked with his skate. I had no idea Canadians were so ruthless. Adam had nothing to do with it, and the rumors were stupid, and I shouldn't have... I jumped to conclusions, and I'm sorry." He looked expectantly at Johnny.

"And?" Johnny said.

"And what?"

"And how are you going to fix what you broke?" Johnny demanded. "That's so typical of you. You expect everyone else to clean up your mess."

Evan laughed humorlessly. "Typical of me? I'm not the one who runs away instead of talking. I'm not the one who refuses to deal with anything. I'm not the one who sees everything as an absolute."

"Don't you _dare_ —"

Evan held his hands up in surrender. "I really didn't come here to start another fight," he said. "That was my apology, accept it, don't accept it, I don't give a fuck."

"You've obviously come in the true spirit of contrition," sneered Johnny.

"I was feeling pretty bad about it, until you reminded me how much I want to strangle you!" Evan almost-yelled.

"You shouldn't have taken your insecurities out on Adam and Mirai!" Johnny yelled back.

"I know!"

That... was not at all what Johnny had expected Evan to shout. Johnny looked uncertainly at him. "You do?"

Evan sighed and sat down on the bed next to Johnny. "I'm not unaware that I was a douche," he said. "You get it, right? How it can be hard to trust someone after you feel like you've been burned?"

Johnny _hated_ agreeing with Evan, ever. "Yes," he said grudgingly. "But you still—"

"Will you help me fix it?" Evan asked.

"I..." Johnny was never sure how to deal with Evan when he was being sincere. Particularly when he was being sincere so close to Johnny, and Johnny was mostly naked, and they were sitting on a bed. Some part of Johnny's brain always had trouble tracking whether they hated each other or loved each other from moment to moment. "I want it to be fixed," he agreed finally.

Evan smiled a little sadly. "There's no reason this story always has to end all fucked up," he said.

"They deserve better," Johnny said, but he wasn't sure who Evan was talking about anymore.

Evan looked for a second like he was going to say something. He moved his hand, letting it hover uncertainly between them, and for a minute Johnny thought he was going to touch, that Evan was going to lean in and kiss him. Johnny had no idea if he'd let him or not. It was a terrible idea, and he knew that, but he still _wanted_ , and it made him crazy. Then Evan put his hand down and cleared his throat. "They're resilient, they'll bounce back," he said.

"Yeah," Johnny agreed.

"We should arrange something cute and stupid for them," Evan continued. "They'll appreciate that. You're the romantic; you figure something out."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "What would you do without me?" Evan just looked at him for a long minute, not responding. "I wasn't serious," Johnny said. "I'm not hitting on you or anything."

"I know, but..." Evan made a fist and pounded it lightly against the bedspread. "I hate that you retired. You're not skating against me at Nationals. It's weird."

"I wouldn't want to embarrass you," Johnny said. Evan rolled his eyes. "Seriously, go out and kick some ass, show the kids what old guys can do."

"No, I mean, for real," Evan said. "I don't know what to do without you around to argue with. Or not-argue. Whatever you want to call that other stuff we do sometimes."

"I don't want to call it anything," said Johnny flatly.

Evan sighed. "I liked it when we had a truce."

"It wasn't terrible," Johnny agreed grudgingly.

"I liked it when we..." Evan's hand crept across the blanket until his fingers were just barely brushing Johnny's. "I mean, even when Frank said he'd seen Adam messing with Jeremy's skates, I almost said fuck it. I really, really wanted to. I knew you were gonna be pissed, I knew it would ruin things, and I didn't want to ruin them. Not again."

"But you _did_ ," Johnny said, pulling his hand back.

Evan nodded. "I had to pick between what I thought was right, and what I wanted." He looked up at Johnny with a disarmingly open expression. "It wasn't like last time. Last time I picked what was easy. This time I picked what was hard."

"You—" Johnny started, and then he stopped short. What he wanted to say was, 'You should have talked to me,' but he was the one who'd stormed out. Both times. Evan was apparently learning and growing and Johnny was exactly the same asshole he'd always been. "I should have listened," Johnny said finally, quietly. "Both times. I never listen to you. You make me crazy, you make me want to scream and storm away, and I'm no good at taking a deep breath and thinking about other people's feelings." He made a face. "I hate other people's feelings. They're so inconvenient."

Evan laughed. "They get in the way of those awesome tantrums you throw."

"They do! My tantrums are _amazing_."

"I have learned to appreciate them," Evan agreed. He took a deep breath. "So... If I asked you now, about us, about that thing we were doing..."

The words caught in Johnny's throat. Yes, and no, and anger, and disappointment, and trust, and uncertainty, all tried to settle in his throat at once. He shook his head quickly, leaning away from Evan. "I can't," he said.

"Okay. I figured," said Evan heavily.

It was on the tip of Johnny's tongue to take it back, to say he could. He wanted to. Sometimes he was so desperately lonely, especially now that he'd retired, that the idea of someone who wanted to be with him was dizzying.

But Johnny was such a mess, and Evan was still competing. And there was some last gap of trust between them that Johnny just couldn't make himself jump.

"Sorry," said Johnny, standing up and crossing his arms.

"No, it's cool," Evan said. He shrugged. "Can we go back to that not-screaming-all-the-time truce?"

Johnny nodded, pressing his lips together so he wouldn't blurt out anything stupid about... Well, anything.

"Let's figure something out for Adam and Mirai, huh?" Evan asked.

"Yeah," said Johnny gratefully. "Let me get dressed and then we can do that." That was something he could handle.

Evan waggled his eyebrows. "Don't put pants on on _my_ account," he said.

"Shut up," Johnny said, blushing a little. He grabbed his jeans and locked himself in the bathroom so he could take a lot of long, deep breaths and rest his forehead against the cool mirror for a minute, just until his heart stopped pounding in his ears.

\--

Johnny didn't sleep well after Evan left, and he hadn't been sleeping well leading up to the banquet, so he was snappish and grumpy in the morning. He saw his mother off to the airport — she didn't need to stick around to watch the actual competition since he wasn't competing, but he was staying because he'd agreed to do some commentary — and then spent the morning shopping and arranging things. Johnny loved organizing and planning and making sure every tiny thing was exactly where it was supposed to go.

He stopped by the practice rink in his rental car and stole Adam from Brian. "I promise to bring him back an even better skater," Johnny said facetiously, and then hustled Adam out before Brian could ask him what that meant. "You need cheering up," Johnny announced. "I've decided to intervene."

"I think interventions are supposed to involve my loved ones reading sad letters," said Adam dubiously, but he sighed and slumped against the car window a little. "Why does everything have to suck sometimes?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Johnny, a little sharply. "You have two medals from Grand Prix events. You're going to kick ass at Nationals. Your family loves you, your coach loves you, you have jobs lined up for the whole summer. You can't let one stupid relationship gone sour ruin your attitude. You have to, _have to_ believe me when I say I've been there and done that, and it's no good."

Adam looked a tiny bit chastened. "Which one?"

"Which one what?"

"Which one messed you up?" Adam asked. "Drew? Or Stéphane? Or..." He trailed off, looking a little uncertainly at Johnny.

Johnny was clutching the steering wheel a little more tightly than he needed to, but whatever. "Drew and I were young and kind of dumb, and I thought he'd broken my heart forever, but eventually I was okay. Stéphane was a mistake, but he and I are friends, and I love him. I don't regret that one. Evan... Evan was a much, much bigger mistake, and I do regret that one."

Adam nodded morosely. "Every time I see her I kind of want to cry. That goes away, right?"

"Yes," said Johnny. "But that's not... I don't regret _trying_ with Evan. I regret fucking it up really badly, and then being bitter and angry and letting it affect me."

"Oh," said Adam, looking at his hands.

Johnny patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, okay? The point of this outing is to cheer you up. Brian's going to put you on suicide watch if you don't start sparkling again, you adorable little diamond."

"I only understand what you're talking about, like, half the time," Adam complained.

Johnny pulled into the parking lot of Hester Park. It was unseasonably warm in Greensboro; almost 60 degrees. There were a few people walking around the parks, but not too many. Johnny noticed the flashy red rental car that was already parked and smiled to himself. "I need to grab some things from the trunk," he said.

"Okay." Adam climbed out of the car and looked around, while Johnny fetched his morning's hard work. Adam looked a little surprised when Johnny handed him a picnic basket, but not shocked. "It's January, you know that, right?"

"Your entire profession involves being cold," Johnny scoffed. "And you have a hat. It'll be fine. I rented a pavillion."

"In January, for a picnic," Adam said dubiously, but he followed Johnny toward the pavillion.

It could have been warmer, but at least it wasn't raining or snowing or something. Johnny had worked hard on this cheer-up picnic, and it needed to be spectacular. "I made four different kinds of tiny sandwiches," Johnny said. "And there's fruit and protein shakes and all kinds of things that won't get you in trouble with Brian."

"Sounds awesome," said Adam. "This is really nice of you. I like how you're using your powers of OCD for good instead of evil."

Johnny made a face at him, and Adam giggled. "Isn't this nice?" Johnny asked. The pavillion looked even nicer in reality than it had on the park website. He took the basket from Adam and started laying out the tablecloth and plates he'd packed.

"You really went all out, huh?"

"Of course," said Johnny. He took out a few color-coded tiny tupperware containers, each one neatly labeled with pen on tape.

"You didn't have to do this," said Adam.

Johnny snorted. "I ruined things, so I needed to fix them," he said. "Now sit down, have a snack."

"But you didn't — Uh oh," said Adam.

"Uh oh?"

Adam bit his lip. "Don't look now, but I think Evan had kind of the same idea as you? He's with Mirai over there. Maybe they won't see us." He ducked a little behind the basket.

Johnny turned and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, are they? Hey, Evan!" Johnny waved.

"Stop it, you don't want to talk to him, do you?" Adam hissed.

Evan waved back. His arms were really too long for his body, Johnny thought, and then shrugged. It didn't really matter. "Evan and I have buried the hatchet, again," said Johnny. "Why shouldn't he come over?"

"Because he's with Mirai," Adam said. "Oh. Hi."

"Hey," said Evan, grinning at Johnny. Mirai was standing mostly behind him, peeking around Evan's elbow at Adam, who was suddenly desperately interested in his plastic silverware.

"Fancy seeing you here," said Johnny.

Evan held out a hand to Adam. "How's it going?"

Johnny didn't blame Adam for looking at Evan's hand like it was a snake that might bite him. He shook hands and shot Johnny a quick _what the hell is going on?_ look. Johnny ignored him. "It's okay," said Adam.

"I'm really glad all that stuff about Jeremy Ten got cleared up," said Evan. "The Canadian skaters are pretty bloodthirsty, huh? Johnny told me you had nothing to do with it, and I'm glad he was right."

Adam blinked a couple of times. "Oh," he said. "Did someone say something officially?"

"Yeah, there was an announcement this morning. The whole thing was a big mess. I bet a whole lot of people will be apologizing to you pretty soon, for assuming you had anything to do with it."

"Ahem," said Johnny.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Yes, including me. Sorry, dude."

"No worries," said Adam. He sounded confused, and understandably so.

There was kind of an awkward pause. "Well," said Johnny, because he hated awkward pauses. "Isn't this cozy? Boy girl, girl boy?" He batted his eyes at Evan, who barely stifled a laugh.

"It does look pretty great," said Evan. "But I'm not really in a picnic mood."

"You know what, neither am I," said Johnny. "Mirai, you should take my spot, there's too much food for Adam by himself."

"I— I should?" Mirai asked, looking doubtfully at Evan.

"You should," Evan repeated. He gave her a little one-armed hug, which Johnny refused to find adorable.

Mirai lit up. "Evan!" she squeaked. "You're the best." She kissed his cheek and then turned to Adam. "I never thought you had _anything_ to do with it," she said.

"You didn't?" Adam started smiling a little, and Mirai smiled back at him, and _there_ was the so-cute-it's-disgusting vibe that Johnny had missed.

Mirai sat down on the bench next to him, gloved hands in her lap. "I really didn't," she said. "I don't know if you're mad at me about it, but... I'm sorry if I—"

"I'm not," said Adam quickly. "It wasn't you. It was a big misunderstanding."

"You couldn't have misunderstood me," said Mirai glumly. "I was really blunt. Oh, Adam! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Please don't be sorry, it's not a big deal, I understand," Adam said quickly. "As long as you aren't mad at me—"

"As long as you aren't mad at _me_ —"

Evan jerked his head toward the car. Johnny nodded. He tossed the keys to his rental to Adam — it was a little illegal, but whatever — and stepped back . Adam and Mirai were holding hands and earnestly telling each other that they had missed each other. They weren't even going to notice Johnny and Evan leaving.

"I feel underappreciated," Johnny muttered, crossing his arms. He and Evan walked back toward the car. The sun broke through the clouds overhead, lighting up the dim winter afternoon. "Oh for fuck's sake," Johnny said.

"Don't be jealous that your own plan worked," Evan chided.

Johnny looked back over his shoulder. Adam and Mirai were still at the very serious talking-and-blushing portion of the day. "They're not going to eat the food before it gets warm," he complained. "There's ice cream in there, with little ice packs. What a waste."

"Ice cream," said Evan, eyes going momentarily distant. "Mmmm."

Johnny poked him in the side. "When you retire you can have all the ice cream you want," he said. "You could use some. You look like a skeleton."

"Don't tempt me right before a competition," said Evan. "You're cruel." He looked back toward the picnic table. "They seem to have recovered quickly. He better keep his hands mostly to himself. I know she'll be eighteen in four months, but—"

"Adam is a perfect gentleman," said Johnny. "Plus, haven't you raised Mirai well enough to stand up for herself? If she didn't want to do something, she'd tell him. With her fist."

Evan grinned. "True! Okay, I feel better now."

Johnny squinted. "They're kissing. They're never going to get to the ice cream, what a waste."

"I'm giving you a ride back to the rink, huh?" said Evan.

"I'm not going to walk," Johnny said. It was weird how most of the snap had gone out of him when he talked to Evan. The urge to kill and maim had been replaced with a funny kind of resigned friendliness.

"Whatever," Evan shrugged. He opened the car door for Johnny, who thought about saying something snotty and decided not to. He didn't actually have to pick a fight with Evan every thirty seconds, after all. "Whatever you're thinking, you can say it," said Evan mildly. "I figured out that your bark is way worse than your bite. Except for that time you bit me, but you've probably grown out of that." He grinned, big and stupid.

Johnny disapproved of how attractive Evan was when he wasn't being Evan Lysacek: Hero of Figure Skating. "I wasn't going to say anything," Johnny lied easily. "You've really relaxed, huh?"

Evan squinted cryptically at the horizon. "I'm thinking about what's worth what, you know?" he said.

"I have no idea what that means," Johnny said, but then Evan started the car and he could pretend the engine was too loud to say anything else.

\--

Johnny's neck hurt, and he couldn't figure out why. He blinked a couple of times and realized it hurt because he'd bent his head at a funny angle, sleeping against the window of the car. There was classical music playing quietly from the radio, and someone humming along off-key. It had started to rain outside, just heavily enough to fog the windows up.

Evan was doing a crossword puzzle against the steering wheel of the car, which was parked. He was chewing on the eraser of his pencil and frowning ferociously.

Johnny felt wooly-headed and heavy all over. "When did we get back to the rink?" he asked, voice croaking unattractively.

Evan shrugged. "A while ago. I'm not ready to face Frank, anyway."

"Holy shit, you're an hour late," Johnny said, sitting up and blinking at the clock on the dashboard.

"Adam and Mirai showed up about twenty minutes ago," said Evan, with a little grin. "Soaking wet. They're in _so_ much trouble. And now I'm going to have to spend the next two days making sure Mirai doesn't get the flu before her skate. Nice plan."

"I can't control the weather," said Johnny irritably. He was feeling irrationally grumpy because he didn't understand why Evan hadn't woken him up, and whenever he didn't understand Evan he wanted to break things. "Frank is going to kill you."

"Yeah, well. I did a clean run-through this morning, and last night, and yesterday morning. I've earned an hour off," said Evan.

"Have you been bodysnatched by aliens?"

"Someone pretty smart told me one time that I couldn't focus just on winning," Evan said, giving Johnny a long sideways glance.

Johnny couldn't read Evan at all. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckle and looked out the window instead of at Evan. "You should have woken me up."

"You looked really tired. And sometimes I like to have a few minutes to myself," said Evan.

"Yeah, but it's too... It's creepy, you watching me sleep," said Johnny.

Evan rolled his eyes. "I know the car's kind of fogged up, but this isn't Titanic," he said. "I wasn't drawing your profile or anything. I kind of figured you'd wake up when I stopped the car. And then you didn't, so I figured you were just really tired, and I know that feeling, so I didn't wake you up. Sorry. Next time I'll throw some water on you or something."

Johnny huffed, "Don't worry, I'm not sleeping with you again." The second the words were out of his mouth he knew he'd said it wrong, but in his defense, he still wasn't entirely awake.

Evan's grin turned into a smirk, and Johnny's cheeks got hot. "I don't remember you complaining," Evan said. "I've totally gotten better since then, too. You want me to provide references or something? I can!"

"Shut up, shut up," said Johnny. He wrestled with his seatbelt for a minute, cursing his fingers for suddenly getting clumsy and trapping him in the car with Evan.

"Dude, I'm kidding," said Evan easily. He reached over to help Johnny and his hand was on Johnny's and Johnny kind of froze, because Evan was leaning over and his face was too close to Johnny's and Johnny couldn't breathe.

Evan swallowed, but he didn't say anything either. He just sat there, with his hand on Johnny's and his big stupid eyes and his big stupid face. "I don't sleep with just anyone," Johnny said, a little choked. It came out mean, but that wasn't how he meant it. He honestly couldn't usually sleep in the same room as most people. They kept him awake, or he kept himself awake, listening to every little noise. It was bizarre that he'd fallen asleep with Evan.

"Now I feel special," said Evan. His voice had gotten deeper, suddenly.

Johnny tried to breathe, because he was feeling lightheaded and his chest ached. "I need a cigarette," he blurted, wrenching his hand out from underneath Evan's. He fought with the door, but of course it was an electronic lock over by Evan's side of the car door. Evan clicked it open and Johnny stumbled out on to the pavement.

It was only raining a little bit. Johnny leaned against the car and shivered. "That's a pretty gross habit," said Evan. He opened up an umbrella but stayed on the other side of the car, watching Johnny with a funny tilt of his head.

"I'm retired, how else am I going to stay this thin?" Johnny asked, half-joking.

"Lots of time to fill, huh?"

Johnny nodded, wet and slightly miserable. "I'm going to quit. Any day now."

"You need to find something else to do," said Evan.

"I'm working on it," Johnny replied.

\---

  
Johnny spent a couple of days wearing outfits he hoped would make the USFSA want to set their eyes on fire and avoiding Evan. Not in an unfriendly way, this time, just in a... Well, he wasn't sure what to say to Evan, and he was a little worried about what might come blurting out of his mouth. Johnny didn't usually care that he said all the things that should have stayed inside his head, but now he was in a weird, fuzzy zone with Evan. There were ideas bouncing around in his thoughts that he wasn't ready to admit to yet, particularly not to Evan.

He also went shopping. He bought a ridiculous hat for himself, and some glittery shirts for Adam, who needed a little more sparkle in his wardrobe. Johnny wanted to be able to admit knowing him in public. He picked up a ridiculous tiny teddy bear for Mirai, too, because hopefully this would be a week that she'd want to remember for a while.

He considered buying something for Evan, just because he could, but he couldn't bear to admit that he knew Evan well enough to shop for him, so instead he bought especially tacky postcards for his mom and Paris and wrote outrageous lies on them about all the things he was doing.

Johnny had no idea what he was going to say about anyone's skate. He tried to imagine himself complimenting Evan's skating and recoiled automatically. On the other hand, he didn't want to eviscerate him, especially.

He stopped by to watch some skating and wish Mirai and Adam good luck. It made his chest ache, a little bit, watching other people skate for medals that should have been his, but he was getting better at dealing with it. Except that Evan had somehow developed a creepy talent for lurking behind Johnny whenever he turned around. "Why are you in my space?" Johnny asked irritably, pushing past Evan to the parking lot.

Evan followed him, dogged and frowning. "Are you going out to smoke? You really shouldn't."

"You should really mind your own business," Johnny answered. He hadn't been going out for a cigarette, but now he wanted one, just to irritate Evan.

"But you'll die," said Evan. Johnny glared at him. "Eventually, I mean. Probably not right away. That would be funny, though. If you went out to smoke and then a car hit you or something."

"That would be hilarious," agreed Johnny dryly.

"No, but it would be a _little_ funny," Evan insisted. He'd managed to block Johnny from getting entirely out the door, which meant blocking everyone else who wanted to go in or out. Brian Orser cleared his throat pointedly.

"If you think that my death would be hilarious—" Johnny started.

"I'm saying I _don't_ want you to die!"

"You'd probably drive the car."

"I would throw myself in front of it, okay? Happy?"

Brian sighed, "Get a room," and shoved past them.

That brought Johnny up short. "We're not flirting!" he yelled after Brian, who just waved in a whatever-you-say way. Johnny put his hands on his hips. "I am not flirting with you," he told Evan pointedly.

Evan grinned. "You might be. A little."

"You _wish_ I were flirting with you."

"Nah," said Evan. "If I wanted your attention I'd just ignore you. That drives you nuts."

Johnny spluttered a little. "That's absurd!" Evan shrugged and started to head back into the rink. "Evan!"

Evan turned around to grin. "You can't _stand_ it when I ignore you. I got you all figured out, Weir."

"You have _nothing_ figured out," said Johnny, narrowing his eyes. "There are seventy-five different things I could say right now, and they'd all ruin your practice and your skate and make you _cry_."

Evan hesitated. "Yeah, probably," he allowed.

Johnny started to say one of them, any of the carefully guarded barbs and jabs he'd been hoarding since they were teens. His litany of hateful, horrible, crushing retorts specifically tailored for Evan Lysacek. But the sport had gone out of it. "Just keep that in mind," Johnny said finally. He crossed his arms.

"Trust me, I know," said Evan.

"Okay, then," Johnny said. Evan shrugged at him and went back to the rink.

"It really does sound like flirting, though," said Adam, appearing out of apparently nowhere.

Johnny jumped. "When the hell did you get here?" he demanded.

Adam grinned cheekily. "I like listening to you guys flirt. Sorry, I mean, fight. So when he apologized to me, he apologized to you, too, right?"

"No," said Johnny. "Well. Sort of. It doesn't matter."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though. You two are definitely flirting, when you're not trying to kill each other."

"It doesn't _matter_ ," said Johnny, with pointed, strained patience. "We aren't doing anything, and we're not going to. Stop badgering me and go bother your girlfriend."

"Whatever," said Adam dismissively. "Fine. Go ahead and make terrible life decisions. See if I care."

"I don't care if you care!"

Adam pointed at him. "You're underestimating me! You don't know how Yu-na and I convinced David his car was haunted. You don't know about the Great Prank War."

"Because you're all twelve," said Johnny.

"I lure you into a false sense of security first," said Adam confidently. "Then bam! I strike. I _won_ , prank you very much." He grinned again. "Anyway, I have to go. Please try to keep your flirting with Lysacek to a minimum. It's distracting him and I want to beat him fair and square."

Johnny gritted his teeth. "We are not. Flirting." Adam was already out of earshot. Clearly Johnny and Evan had created a monster. An unfortunately adorable monster, but Johnny was willing to kill it with fire if he had to.

He thought about going outside to smoke away his stress and then he thought about Evan's big stupid earnest face and decided not to. Not because of Evan, obviously, but because Johnny had seriously been meaning to quit forever.

\--

Frank Carroll kept giving Johnny the evil eye. It wasn't new or anything, but Johnny wasn't sure what he'd done to earn it this time. Unless it was to hook Mirai and Adam up. Or to distract Evan from his practices. Or to wear a hat covered in feathers. Honestly, Johnny couldn't think of a thing.

Johnny was starting to prefer commentating; he didn't get so nervous he thought he would pass out, and he could wear anything he wanted to, without worrying that something might come dislodged on the ice, or give Galina a grump attack. He could lounge around and talk to everyone and drink a latte at his leisure and say any bitchy thing that came into his head. He watched the last group warming up for the short program and didn't particularly feel like saying anything nasty about anyone, so he settled for making kissy faces at Scott Hamilton, subtly batting his lashes whenever Scott looked up. It barely took five minutes before Scott muttered something disgusted and stormed out of the press room.

"Nice," said Sasha Cohen.

"My goal is to give him a full-on nervous breakdown," Johnny confided.

Sasha held up crossed fingers. "You know I'm rooting for you."

Even when he wasn't skating, Nationals was so tense that Johnny could feel it in his shoulders. Jeremy skated brilliantly. "That's going to be hard to beat," Johnny muttered.

Sasha elbowed him. "You're not supposed to be biased, you're going to talk about the men's skate later."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear all your kindest thoughts on Rachael Flatt," said Johnny.

"Evan's next," Sasha replied pointedly, and that was why Johnny loved her. She was just as bitchy as he was.

"I do hope Frank Carroll has a heart attack," said Johnny. "Mirai deserves a much nicer coach."

"I heard he made Evan cry this morning," Sasha whispered, obviously delighted. Johnny _should_ have been delighted, but instead he felt a truly unexpected surge of anger. Why did Frank always have to be such a bastard? Evan was _fragile_. Johnny knew better than anyone how many cracks he had just under that ridiculous orange surface. Sasha raised an eyebrow. "So, we're not hating on Evan, at the moment? I thought the Rippon kid was _joking_."

Johnny said irritably, "It can't always be Hate Evan Lysacek Day."

"Can't it?"

"No."

Sasha gave him a long, disbelieving look, and then they both turned back to the monitors to watch. Evan skated well, Evan always skated well, but there was something missing in his skating, Johnny thought. A lack of the fire and drive that Evan usually had pouring out his ears, making up for his artistic shortcomings. "That's not a medal," whispered Sasha.

"Frank probably broke him this morning," Johnny grumbled.

Sasha asked archly, "Are you planning to fix him?"

"Shut up," said Johnny, but it wasn't a terrible idea. He knew how to break Evan, he could probably figure out how to put him together again. It would be something to do, at least.

"Oh, how sickeningly cute, look," said Sasha. Adam was getting ready to skate, while Brian gave him a pep-talk just off the ice. Mirai had snuck into the seats behind them, waving and blowing kisses.

"That's my handiwork," said Johnny.

Brian said something else and Adam nodded. Then he gave Mirai a quick, happy smile and wave, and the announcer said, "Adam Rippon!"

"I can't believe I am actually nervous for him," complained Johnny. "What has my life become?"

"Oh no," said Sasha with mock-horror. "Please tell me you haven't grown a conscience."

"Don't start with me, Adam's cute. Shh," said Johnny. Adam started skating, and Johnny was pleasantly surprised at how he'd improved since NHK. Brian clearly knew exactly what he was doing. About halfway through Johnny knew Adam was going to skate the entire thing clean, but he managed not to pump his fist in triumph. Sasha would have made fun of him forever. Somewhere near the end Adam realized he was going to skate the whole thing, and he was already on the brink of tears when he hit the last pose, which he immediately bounced out of, whooping wildly.

Sasha said, "Oh god. He's going to be so obnoxious after this, isn't he?"

"Don't jinx him before the free skate," Johnny said.

Sasha shook her head at him. "No one invited you to commentate to be _nice_ to the skaters," she pointed out, but Johnny chose to ignore her.

\--

Johnny knocked on the hotel room door, trying not to think about what he was doing. There was a pause before Evan opened it, and he looked a little baffled, half-hiding behind his door like he thought Johnny's bag was full of dynamite.

"Shut up, don't ask, I don't want to talk about it," said Johnny quickly. "You looked upset, I just thought... Well, obviously you wouldn't be taking care of yourself, you're ridiculous that way. Did you even eat dinner? How are you going to compete without any energy?

"I wasn't hungry?" Evan said. Johnny didn't know who he was asking if he was hungry or not. "I tried to eat some fruit and vegetables."

"I thought so," said Johnny fussily. "Well? Let me in, or I can't heat this up."

Evan stepped aside. He looked confused, but he almost always looked confused. It might just have been his normal face. Johnny took his coat off and hung it over the bed. "You aren't allergic to arugula, are you?"

"I'm not sure what arugula is," said Evan.

"Bah. The chicken won't be as good microwaved, obviously, but I have to work with what I have. Pretend it's fresh grilled instead of heated up in tupperware."

Evan was squinting at him, in what might have been a thoughtful way. "You're making me dinner?"

Johnny felt his shoulders go up around his ears. "Your short program today wasn't very good," he said. "I mean, it was good for anyone else, but for you it wasn't great. You need food. And you need to tell Frank to go jump off a cliff."

"Oh," said Evan. "Well. Thanks?"

Johnny waited for a second, but Evan didn't say anything else. Johnny relaxed fractionally. "Don't thank me until you eat some," he said. "It might be awful. It might be poisoned. You don't know." He started heating up the chicken and arranging the salad. He'd separated the ingredients that needed to be dry from the ones that needed to be washed, so that the lettuce wouldn't get slimy.

The longer Evan didn't say anything, the more Johnny could pretend that this was a normal situation. Evan sat down against the back of the couch and clasped his hands between his knees, nodding quietly to himself as if Johnny were asking him questions. Johnny pulled nice plastic plates out of his voluminous bag, arranging all the silverware neatly on the table by the bed.

"Fancy," said Evan.

"I wasn't going to bring you _plastic_ silverware," scoffed Johnny. "Please." The microwave beeped and he pulled the tupperware out, arranging the chicken with a little bit of fat-free, calorie-free sauce. "There. Eat."

Evan didn't move for a second. "Are you going to eat, too?"

"I already ate," said Johnny. "Food you're not allowed to have. Lasagna and ice cream. It was wonderful, by the way."

Evan laughed and Johnny handed him the plate. "Thanks for rubbing it in. Will you like... Will you stick around while I eat, at least? It seems kind of weird otherwise."

Johnny didn't point out that it _was_ weird, no matter what. "Sure, I suppose. But you need to get some sleep, Evan. You always think you can go around, running on empty, and it won't affect your skating. It definitely does."

"Frank told me it seemed like I wasn't focused," Evan admitted. He nibbled cautiously at the arugula. "This isn't regular lettuce?"

"My god, you thought I'd bring you iceberg lettuce? When I bring you dinner it's not just food, it's _cuisine_." Evan quirked an eyebrow. Johnny looked uncomfortably at the carpet. "You brought me soup," he said, just a little defensively.

"Yeah, but I had an agenda," said Evan. He glanced sidelong at Johnny.

"No," said Johnny quickly. "This isn't part of my plan to seduce you. This is like... I'm cementing our peace treaty. I don't hate you, you don't hate me. I'm over all our stupid teenage drama. I barely even made fun of your skating today."

Evan nodded solemnly. "Okay. I guess that makes sense."

"If we're going to be friends, I can't have you walking around looking like hot buttered death," said Johnny. "You need to start taking care of yourself."

"I do okay," Evan said.

Johnny snorted. "Please. You barely eat, you let Frank tear you apart, you don't sleep. Imagine what kind of skater you'd be if you were actually in peak condition."

Evan had the tiny plate balanced on his knees on the couch, using the side of the fork to cut his chicken into smaller and smaller pieces. "I don't know," he said. "I do okay like this."

"You're miserable," said Johnny.

"And you're bossy," Evan countered. "Mmm. This is really good."

"Yes, of course," Johnny said.

"Yes, of course you're bossy, or this is good?"

"Both." Johnny hadn't quite found the will to sit down on the couch next to Evan. He really had just planned to bring over dinner and then leave. Not run away, just... Exit quickly and with his dignity intact.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Everything just has to come easy to you, doesn't it? You're so obnoxious."

"Let me guess," said Johnny. "Now you're going to sign up for le Cordon Bleu so you can work 23 hours a day on being a better chef than I am."

"It's as good a plan as I have right now," Evan shrugged.

"Oh, Evan," sighed Johnny. "What are we going to do with you?"

Evan froze with the fork halfway to his mouth. "Uh," he said. "I can think of a couple of things."

Johnny's face got hot. "Not like that! I mean, I am going to insist you go to bed, but not with me."

"What if I said I can only sleep if I have someone to cuddle?" Evan asked. Johnny crossed his arms and glared at him. "I'm kidding, I'm just kidding," Evan said. "You're making me nervous, standing there. Could you sit down, please?"

Johnny sniffed haughtily and perched on the edge of the couch. "Better?" he asked. "Hurry up and eat, you need at least eight hours of sleep."

"I haven't gotten eight hours in one night in years," said Evan. He scarfed down the last of the chicken and put the plate on the bed. "Maybe if I had someone to snuggle with..."

"Stop that," said Johnny. Evan reached over and looped one of his ridiculously gigantic arms around Johnny and tugged him a little closer on the couch, pretending to nuzzle his face into Johnny's neck. "Evan, ugh, why are you such a cuddle-monster?"

"I crave affection," said Evan to Johnny's shoulder. Johnny sat there for a minute, back rigid, and then sighed.

"If I let you hug me will you go to bed and get some sleep? Adam and Jeremy are going to kick your ass tomorrow, otherwise."

Evan made a confirming noise and didn't move. "This is an unexpected side to you, J," he said. "The ruthless mommy side."

"You did _not_ just call me 'J.' Why don't you just stab me in the heart, seriously?" Johnny chose not to comment on being called a ruthless mommy. It wasn't the worst description he'd ever heard.

"I could start calling you Swan again," Evan offered.

"Johnny. My name is _Johnny_." He paused. "Mongoose."

Evan huffed a laugh against his shoulder. "Maybe I am kind of tired," he said.

"Of course you are. Food and sleep and a month or two off would do you a world of good." Johnny prodded him until Evan reluctantly got up. "But since you would never, ever take a month off to do anything fun, I will settle for making you go to bed."

Evan sighed a little at him, but he pulled off his shirt — Johnny did _not_ check out his chest, nice as it was — and kicked off his sneakers. "You want to make sure I brush my teeth for a full three minutes, too?"

"Your oral hygiene is your own business," said Johnny. Evan started to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again. "Don't," said Johnny, feeling his pulse start to speed up. "You are such a pervert. How can anyone be friends with you if you read things in to everything everyone says?"

"Not everyone," said Evan. "Mostly just you."

"I..." Johnny floundered for a second and settled for his stand by. "Get in bed. I'm repacking my tupperware and when I'm done you had better be asleep."

There was another one of those seconds that felt like it was dragged out to an hour, when Evan was looking at him, and Johnny was looking at Evan, and the air between them seemed to crackle. He could have reached out. He could have climbed into bed with Evan. He knew Evan wouldn't mind, and he knew it would be good. His heart thumped painfully against his ribs and he couldn't swallow. Evan wanted it, and Johnny wanted it, and they both knew and—

"It's a bad idea, before I compete tomorrow," said Evan. He didn't need to specify what was a bad idea.

"It's a bad idea always," Johnny corrected him. His voice sounded scratchy because his mouth was so dry.

"Yeah, probably," Evan agreed. He sat down on the bed and watched Johnny put everything from dinner away, wrapping it all in plastic so his bag wouldn't get messy.

Johnny hesitated by the door, one hand on the lightswitch. "It _is_ a bad idea, Evan." His voice broke. "I... As much as we... We shouldn't."

"Yeah," Evan said heavily. Johnny's heart sank, and then he realized he was _sad about Evan Lysacek_ , and that was beyond absurd. "Good night, try not to flail all over the ice tomorrow," he said briskly, flipped off the lights and left.

\--

Adam won the gold and Jeremy got the silver and Evan skated better than expected, but he couldn't quite manage to catch up to them. He settled for a high-scoring bronze, just a point below the silver. He looked pretty proud of himself. He also didn't have giant bags under his eyes, which Johnny took as his own personal victory.

"Adam's skating like a man posessed," said Sasha. They had seats near the front of the stadium, and Johnny was very aware that people were taking his picture all through Evan's skate.

"He's skating like a man with a girlfriend," said Johnny. "I remember that feeling fondly."

"Hmmm," said Sasha. "So explain to me why Evan looks so much better than yesterday."

"No comment," said Johnny.

\--

The banquet was a really, really boring night, usually, but Adam and Mirai had both managed to win gold, and they were essentially holding court while other skaters either fought to stand in their glow or to be as far from them as possible. Johnny liked to pretend he was a cynic, but as he watched them holding hands and sitting on a table giggling at each other he felt a little ache in his chest.

"You aren't going to cry, are you?" asked Evan, sidling up behind him.

"I got you that medal, you know," Johnny replied, because Evan was annoying.

"I felt better on the ice tonight than I have in a long time," Evan acknowledged. He started to say something else and then shook his head instead.

Johnny said, "You'll go home tomorrow, you'll get some rest, you'll feel even better. L.A. is great this time of year."

"Yeah," Evan agreed. "And New York is always great, so."

"So," Johnny nodded. "I'll see you at whatever grand prix I end up at next, I guess."

Evan ducked his head. "Not if I see you first," he said. There was something vaguely wistful about his tone, or maybe Johnny needed more champagne. It felt like half the room was staring at them.

"I should..." said Johnny, waving his empty glass, and Evan stepped aside so he could go refill it.

Johnny spent a few minutes trying to wink at Scott Hamilton across the ballroom so that he'd notice and storm away, and when that failed he spent a while dancing with Sasha and shaking his ass outrageously. It was at least as good a time as he'd ever had a big after event, despite the weird weight he felt on his chest when he tried to breathe.

The evening was wrapping up when his phone rang. Most of the kids and nearly all the officials had left, but there were a few people who could stay up and drink and party if they felt like it. Johnny said, "Talk to me."

"Johnny?" Adam sounded panicked and teary. Johnny immediately sobered up.

"What? Did something happen?" he demanded.

"It's just..." Adam started. "Mirai won't, she won't _talk_ to me, I don't know what I did, and maybe it was Frank, but I don't know—"

"Where are you?" Johnny asked grimly. "First I'll kill him, then I'll shake her until she stops being such a little flake."

"Don't be mean, I really like her," said Adam, voice breaking. "I'm upstairs, can you... I just need to figure out what to say, or what I did."

"Be right there," said Johnny. He clicked his phone off and told Sasha, "There's a romantic emergency, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sasha leaned in and kissed him on both cheeks, because she was a doll, and he ducked upstairs in the hotel.

He knocked on the room number Adam had given him, and no one answered, so he pushed the door open. The lights were pretty dim. Maybe Adam was pouting in the back somewhere, although the room looked a lot nicer than Johnny would have expected. Plus, he realized suddenly, this wasn't the same hotel Adam should have been staying at if he was staying with the other skaters.

Both thoughts wandered through his mind and he frowned, and then Evan came barreling in and almost knocked him over. "Mirai?" he said. "Where is she?"

Johnny had always had excellent instincts, and they were screaming at him. He turned back to the door and said, "I don't think this is—" and then the door slammed shut.

"What just happened?" Evan asked.

Johnny couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or scream. "Mirai called you?"

"She was crying, she said she needed me right now, Adam did something!" Evan said. He sounded really panicked, which was sweet.

Johnny patted his arm. "Calm down. I'm pretty sure she's fine. Adam called _me_ in tears because Mirai did something."

"But..." Evan squinted around the dim room. "Neither one of them is here. I don't get it."

Johnny reached over and tried the doorknob which, not at all to his surprise, wouldn't turn. "Holy shit," he said, "I'm going to _kill_ that kid."

"Kill who? Where's Mirai? Is she okay?"

Johnny sighed. "Evan, try to keep up. The door is locked. I would bet you a million dollars that right now out in the hallway there is a curly-haired moppet and his pint-sized girlfriend, giggling their asses off."

Evan blinked. "Oh," he said. And then, "Ohhhhhhh. You want me to bust the door down?"

Out in the hallway Adam shouted, "You can try!"

Johnny banged on the door with the side of his fist. "You're not funny. Open the door!"

"Not until you two dumbasses work your shit out! Have a good night!" There was a gale of laughter, and then it faded, disappearing down the hall.

Johnny fumbled in his pocket for his phone, but it was missing. "Sasha! Oh my god, it's a _conspiracy_. Evan, do you have your phone?"

"Yeah, it's right here. It's... Um, it was right here?" Evan pulled his pocket inside out. "Now that I think about it, I might have handed it to Jeremy."

"More like he stole it." Johnny crossed his arms and huffed. "I don't know what they think this is going to accomplish."

Evan looked around squintily. "Are those candles?"

Johnny flipped the lights on. They weren't in a little hotel room like he had thought; they were in a full suite. There was a table with candles and room service sitting in the middle of the living room, between the plush couch and the bedroom. A bedroom which, Johnny noticed with a roll of his eyes, had rose petals all over the floor. "That had better be Mirai's influence," he muttered.

Evan picked up the cover over the plate. "Steak," he said. "And wine. And some kind of fancy squishy cake stuff. It..." He bit his lip and looked at Johnny. "It might be good. I mean, as long as we're stuck here."

"If we try to call the front desk I'll bet the phone is disconnected," Johnny allowed. "So we might as well." Now that they'd noticed it the steak _did_ smell pretty great.

"How long do you think it took them to set this up?" Evan asked, sitting down. He poured some wine for both of them.

"A couple of days, at least," said Johnny. "He told me he was a prankster, but I figured he was too smart to mess with me. I'm going to make him pay and pay and pay for this."

Evan laughed. "I can just imagine." He offered Johnny a glass. "To elaborate revenge schemes." Johnny clinked his glass against Evan's.

"If he thinks his cute little smile is getting him out of this, he's got another think coming." Johnny sat down and scowled a little bit. They were sitting close enough together that their elbows brushed.

Evan said, "Oh, like it never worked for you?" Johnny tried to look pained and innocent. "Please," said Evan. "You got out of more trouble just by batting your lashes than I ever got into in the first place."

"It didn't always work!" Johnny protested.

"Like when?"

"Like... With my mom."

Evan snorted, "Of course not, she's your _mom_."

"And you," said Johnny. Evan paused, halfway into spooning himself some mashed potatoes. "You never believe the bullshit I come up with. You can totally tell when I'm lying, it drives me nuts."

"You don't lie so much as you decide what the truth ought to be," said Evan. "You suddenly have so much more conviction in your voice, like you're trying to convince yourself first, and then us."

"Shut up and enjoy your steak," said Johnny, pointing his knife at Evan.

Evan laughed a little bit. "Mmmm. This is the best food I've ever had, I'm pretty sure."

"That's because you normally eat wheat germ and protein shakes," said Johnny.

Evan chewed thoughtfully. "Not any more."

"Have I finally convinced you that food is better than your hideous not-food? At last, my years of toil have paid off."

"Pfft, you barely ate when you were skating," Evan said. "I mean... I'm retiring."

Johnny almost dropped his fork in shock. "You _can't_."

"You did."

"Yeah, but I... You're not me! You love skating. You don't... You can't..." Johnny flapped his hands around helplessly. "The world won't make sense if you're not skating, okay?"

Evan nodded. "That is totally how I felt skating Nationals without you. More wine?"

"You can't just say things like that and then not..." Johnny trailed off, because he wasn't sure why he was so mad at Evan. Maybe he wasn't mad. Maybe he was just confused. There was something rolling around in his chest like it might burst out at any moment and he didn't know what it was or what to do about it.

"I don't think I want to do it anymore," said Evan. "I want to relax. I've been thinking about it all year. I'm not retiring because of you or anything. Now I just have to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. College, maybe. Or raising llamas. I don't know."

Johnny tried to imagine Evan raising llamas. It wasn't as weird as it should have been. "I've been thinking about coaching kids," Johnny said. "Or starring in porn. But raising llamas might be a good fall back."

"I'll save you some room on my farm," said Evan. Johnny didn't really need any more wine after the two glasses of champagne he'd had downstairs. What the hell, he figured, and polished it off. "You'd be good with kids. I think I'd probably snap and kill one of them. Unless I fucked the poor kid up somehow."

"You'd be fine," said Johnny confidently. "You're Evan Lysacek. There is literally nothing you couldn't do if you were just determined enough. It has always driven me crazy. Why don't you ever _give up_?"

"You're so weird," said Evan. He tapped his fork against the table a couple of times. "So. What are we going to do locked in a hotel suite all night?"

Johnny fought to keep his voice even. "Why would we do anything?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Evan asked. Johnny glared at him a little, because his hands had suddenly started shaking and he didn't know why. "We don't have to tell anyone. But Adam's going to think we did whether we do or not, and I kind of want to, so... Why not?"

"You _kind of_ want to?" Johnny demanded, voice cracking in a seriously undignified way.

"Oh, come on," said Evan. "I've wanted to sleep with you since I was sixteen, and now we're locked in a really nice hotel room with a lot of wine and a giant bed. What the hell do _you_ want to do?"

He sounded angry and Johnny didn't entirely understand why. "I don't _not_ want to sleep with you," said Johnny cautiously. "But I don't know if it's a good idea." He blinked suddenly. "Wait a second, we _did_ sleep together."

"No," said Evan, and even under all his tanner Johnny could tell he was blushing. "We fooled around and we fucked in a locker room and I ditched you on our real date. That doesn't count."

"You aren't going to say something about making love, are you?" Johnny asked, equal parts horrified and fascinated.

Evan looked weirdly determined, even though he was turning red underneath. "What's wrong with that?"

"I just never figured you for mushy, romantic sex," Johnny said. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Evan's voice dropped a full octave. "You'd rather have sweaty, dirty, hair-pulling sex?"

Johnny's mouth had gone completely dry. "I um," he said. He couldn't blink. Evan was suddenly so close to him it was like he was radiating heat across the table. "Why?" he tried to joke. "Do you want me to spank you for every nasty thing you ever said about me in the press?"

Evan smiled a little wolfishly. "Maybe I do."

Johnny groped a little blindly until his hand landed on top of Evan's. "Maybe we could work up to that," he said.

"Okay," said Evan, and then somehow he was out of his chair and their mouths were crashing together and oh god, it felt so good, like Johnny could breathe again. Evan's hands were everywhere and his mouth was hot and tasted like wine. Johnny wanted skin, craved it desperately, couldn't figure out how to get Evan's shirt off when his hands were still shaky and his head was spinning. He was overwhelmed by something like relief — they were doing this, they were finally doing this, and no one was going to walk in and interrupt them, no medals or interviews were going to ruin everything — that he couldn't really manage to do anything but throw his arms around Evan's neck and climb into his lap, kissing him breathless.

Eventually he pulled back a little, just enough to take a deep, shuddery breath and say, "The candles are a health hazard. We almost set the place on fire."

Evan immediately turned his head and blew them out. His eyes were dark and his mouth looked like someone had been biting it, and his whole face was flushed. Johnny could only imagine how wrecked he looked himself. "There is a bedroom," said Evan, and Johnny just nodded, because yes.

\--

He woke up when the sun was starting to filter through the curtains because Evan was petting his hair. Evan might have been a cuddle monster — he had his arms and one of his legs wrapped around Johnny in a not-entirely-unpleasant way — but Johnny was definitely a touch whore, and he didn't get nearly enough petting on a normal day. Not unless Stéphane was visiting.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," said Evan. "My flight's in a few hours, and I still need to kill Adam before I go."

Johnny laughed and tried to sound awake. "Very important," he agreed.

"I was thinking I'd fly up to Toronto and shave his head while he's asleep."

"Or," Johnny said, "we could get Orser to tell him he has to start flat-ironing his hair again."

Evan started laughing, too. "David would help us. He'd think it was hilarious."

Johnny just nodded, because making sentences was hard when he was barely awake and feeling pleasantly achey all over. He had an arm over Evan's waist and his cheek against Evan's chest and he could hear Evan's heart beating. He wondered why they hadn't done this years ago and then refused to think about all the answers to that question.

"So, retiring involves a lot of empty time with nothing to do, huh?" Evan asked quietly. He was petting Johnny again, and if he kept doing that Johnny was going to fall asleep, and they were both going to miss their flights because damned if Johnny was moving ever again.

"It doesn't have to," Johnny offered. Feeling vulnerable wasn't usually his thing, but he was almost completely sure he was right about this.

"I am on the east coast a lot," Evan mused. "And you're almost always in L.A. doing stuff. You could, like. Stay with me?"

"You could just not get on that flight and stay here instead," Johnny yawned. He hoped Evan knew that meant yes. He wasn't sure he could say it out loud. He just planned to show up on Evan's doorstep with a million bags and a terrible attitude and demand Evan let him in. Things were easier Johnny's way.

Evan laughed again. "Maybe that is a better plan. We have a couple of hours, at least."

"Whatever will we do," Johnny mused, running his hand up and down Evan's chest. He pushed himself up on his elbow so he could kiss Evan, ignoring the whole morning-breath and terrible hair issues they were both currently having. Then he draped himself across Evan's chest again, because Evan was warm, and solid, and he wanted Johnny even though he had to know what a mess he really was.

Evan couldn't seem to keep his hands still, but it was comforting, the way he was rubbing circles on Johnny's back. "Being retired. It's not... You don't feel unanchored? Like you're drifting?"

"Not right now," said Johnny, and kissed him again.  



End file.
